DBZ, HYHB: Dragon Ball Z, How Young Hearts Bleed
by SilentWillow920
Summary: When Mirai Trunks loses his ki, Bulma creates a device to cure him, but sometimes the cure is worse than the disease. Now, lost in his own time, he looks to the stars for a new hope and a new reality. But the universe still hasn't forgiven the Saiyans...
1. Rekindling the Fires of Hope

_**Episode 1 - Re-kindling the Fires of Hope**_

_If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly._

_Disclaimer: _I do not own DBZ, its characters, storyline, or likenesses. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created _by me_ to be used _by me_ and to be written _**by me**_. If I catch anyone using this idea in their stories without first informing and asking _me_, not my cousin or my lookalike, but _**me**_, they will recieve a serious whomping, flaming, e-mail bombing (ever heard of a Ka-boom?), and then a sound flogging by me, Mirai Trunks, and all of my friends (and I have LOTS of friends). **Mirai Trunks stands behind me, sword drawn and ready to strike, looking _very_ **menacing**** To those good readers out there and those whom have already written a fic similar, but not identical to this, I hope you enjoy and know that any coincidences in this story to real life or other stories is purely that, COINCIDENTAL! And Mirai? Please don't kill me for what I do to you in this fic! *whimpers* **Mirai Trunks gives SW a hug** _**Mirai Trunks:**_ "All is well, Silent Willow. I forgive you." Awwww.... Mirai.... I LOVE YOU TOO! *squeezes tightly* _**Mirai Trunks:**_ "ACK!" Erm, sorry. Did I mention I was your bestest bestest, most bestest best #1 fan? _**MT:**_ "Erm, I think you have. You can let go now, you know." *reluctantly* Alright...

Okie, enough of that! Please, enjoy the fic!

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A/N: This episode is mainly re-cap of what has happened in the DBZ HYHB (DragonBall Z How Young Hearts Bleed) world so far and begins the story, though barely. If you have already seen the Android/Cell saga of DBZ and understand the Mirai Timeline to this far, you will find certain areas you may skip without losing the meaning of the story. Just don't skip too much, as I am known to hint at things to happen later in the story in the very beginning, no matter how inconspicuous or you'd-have-to-be-braindead-to-miss-this. I also love quoting my favorite songs and people, and often compose my own poetry and make up good quotes... But you'll find that out! Also beware my warped sense of humor (which doesn't show up fully manifested until later in this story). It has been known to cause compulsive, contagious, chronic laughter in my readers. Beware!

_**Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it **__**seems**__**...**_

_"...I don't want the world to see me;  
'Cuz I don't think they'd understand.  
When everything's made to be broken;  
I just want you to know who I am..."  
__Goo Goo Dolls, __**"Iris"**_

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"Done yet?" A lavender-haired man asked excitedly. He spoke to an older woman with still moderately azure hair, though the dull gray of her current age had almost completely engulfed the bright blue locks of her younger years.

The two adults stood amidst a motley of miss-matched machine parts, tools, and crumpled blue-prints within the largest building still standing on their scarred world: Capsule Corporation. Ever since the younger man had dispatched the mechanical menace which had plagued their humble world for so many years, the planet's now-sparse population had poked through the rubble persistently, and was first now steadying itself to continue on with life as they had last known it before things had spun wildly out of control. Even though this ray of hope shone brightly over the hearts of all other people, the luck and fortune that was wound tightly throughout it seemed to have left Capsule Corp. in the shadows.

About a year prior to the beginning of this newest adventure, the purple-haired man, named Trunks, had been assisting with the construction of temporary homes when disaster struck. He had been slammed hard at the base of his skull, on the back of his neck, with a large metal bar, permanently severing the connection between his primary, thinking and conscious nervous system, and secondary nervous system--which directs his ki, or power/energy consciously and assists his muscles in performing such extraordinary feats as that which was then expected of him. What resulted was a long period of bed rest and attempted mending of the damage, but none of this was successful.

"Mom?" He asked the older woman tentatively, trying to get her attention, and leaned over to get a glimpse of what she held in her delicate hands.

The older lady smiled mischievously as she turned, shielding her work from her only son's eyes. She cradled in her grasp a small, laser-like device and was entering variables into its instruction list through a connected user interface, checking them yet another time as not to make the imminent human mistake harbored in the first versions of all her works. Her gut told her something had to be wrong, but all the variables had been copied correctly. Everything had to be perfect; this was her son's life she was cradling in her hands! This laser, this device, this machine would finally cure her son of his affliction, finally return him to his former strength and vigor. 

Trunks again attempted to achieve a glimpse at this, the latest miracle of technology sprung from his mother's imagination, but she avoided him yet again, snickering mischievously. This little game of dodging and weaving soon escalated more and more until....

"Oof!" Trunks tripped over a stray hunk of steel in the cluttered workshop.

"Oh, Trunksie! Are you okay?" Bulma floundered over her fallen son, her precious work temporarily abandoned and forgotten on the disaster area known as her workbench.

"Yeah Mom. I'm fine." He lifted himself up off the floor with mild difficulty and dusted off his slightly loose "Capsule Corp." logo T-shirt and gray sweat pants.

"You're going to have to watch yourself, Trunks!" Bulma placed her hands on her hips and slipped her thumbs through the belt loops of her blue work jeans, stained with various dyes and oils from many years of use, and shifted her matching T-shirt to be more comfortable around her waning figure. "Take it easy, at least until I get this ray finished and used on you. Then, when you've got your ki back, you can go save the world again for all I care. Just don't hurt yourself, ok?"

"Yeah, I know, but-" he replied sadly, but was interrupted by his mother speaking to him in her "nice" voice.

"Now go to your room and get some rest. I'll call you when I'm done." Bulma smiled sweetly at her son.

"But Mom! You'll be in here for hours! My stomach can't last that long! It's already been two hours since I last ate-"

Her smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of pure exasperation. "You and your appetite! You're worse than your father. I swear, you'll bleed Capsule Corp. dry with your stomach alone!" she gently brished a lock of lavender hair behind her beloved son's ear and brushed the purple stubble of his new beard, which he had decided he would grow out so he would "look his age". Bulma only wished she could look as young as her son would when he claimed her current age (which she still wouldn't admit to anyone). "Now, be a good boy and get some rest, eat some of the carrot sticks I left on your bed-side table. This little zap is going to take a lot out of you." She indicated the ray, giving her son the glimpse he had been after. He didn't even notice it and merely continued on with his arguement.

"Mom, I may not have my ki around to help me out right now, but I'm still far stronger than any other person who ever lived." he pleaded.

But his efforts were in vain, for Bulma replaced that soft, concerned look for a motherly glare only rivaled by her best friend's wife, Chi-chi. "Trunks!" She demanded his compliance, speaking low and slowly in a no-BS voice that had even pushed its weight over her deceased husband, Vegeta's terrible scowl and iron fists (which had never been directed toward her or any of his "closest" friends) in the past.

"Yes, Mom." was Trunks's meek reply as he turned sharply and ran off to his room. Bulma could swear that if the boy still had a tail, it would have sought refuge between his legs. Of course, Vegeta had taken care of the "tail end of things" when the lavender haired man had been just an infant to keep him from ever transforming into a demon Ozaru.  
Prince Vegeta, or just Vegeta. No last name...

Bulma still missed the arrogant, selfish, self-centered, egotistical prince, even though he had been gone for more than two score (40) years now--46 to be exact. Now, with Trunks into his late forties and herself at an age she wouldn't admit, the two androids and Cell defeated, and the past mended, there was little else for Mrs. Bulma Vegeta-Briefs to do besides taking care of herself, Trunks, and reflecting on the past.

A single tear suddenly escaped her reservoir. She missed everyone so much! Goku, whom she'd met as a child and befriended early on. The brawny man, if lacking in brain mass, had been her best friend for the main portion of her younger years. Gohan, Goku's only son, he could have been Trunks's older brother with how the two had bonded. Yamcha, her dangerous, desert-bandit first boyfriend; and what a hunk! She even missed Krillan, that annoying cue ball that always seemed to have a witty comment when one was needed the most.

All of the others too: Chaozu, Tien, Yanjarobe, Puar, Korrin, Piccolo, Kami, Mr. Popo, and even that annoying, rude piggy, Oolong. She giggled aloud, remembering the forbidden "P" word. Then there was Master Roshi; older than dirt and he still liked the ladies. Turtle was nice too, what a gentlema- erm, gentleturtle. 

And last, once again, and far from least, there was Vegeta. Vegeta, her final lover, the one she swore to be faithful to. He was rude, extravagant, pushy, unrealistic in his demands, arrogant, egotistical, and selfish... but it was to him Bulma had said, "I do." Even though they never "officially" married, Bulma had still promised him "'till death do us part."

She had never really taken the phrase literally before, but now being a widow with one son--who should have been married or at least had a date by now with his dashing good looks, good personality, and high IQ (to which Bulma credited herself fully and without hesitation)--she realized that death had indeed done them part. She sighed, one of her few remaining bright spots in life flickering out...

::"No!":: She mentally slapped herself. ::"I still love him, and always will. No matter what! I swore to him. He swore to me...":: she touched her lips where his final kiss, his final goodbye had fallen right before he had at the hands of the androids. She remembered that morning clearer than she did any other....

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**"Bulma, I must go now. There is a new evil threatening us, and the others know it as well. That television broadcast only confirmed it, and I must fight." She remembered the gruff, deep, yet still soft tone of his saddened, yet firm voice. She remembered the hopeful hopelessness in his eyes, drinking up every last moment he spent with her, eager to get away yet unwilling to go...**

**"Vegeta!" she had screamed commandingly, tugging on his shirt, though no amount of force could keep him from his imminent destiny. "I demand you to stay here! You have a son and a wife now, you know! Vegeta, look at me when I speak to you! Vegeta! Listen!"**

**"Blast you, woman! Can't you see that I have to go? I must! As the Royal Prince of the Saiyans, it is my duty! The pride of my race is at stake, and even if I didn't want to, I have no choice in the matter, and neither do you!"**

**"What Saiyans? I don't see any around here, and don't expect me to roll out the red carpet, your Royal Pain-In-The-Highn-ass! Vegeta! Vegeta..." Her voice had suddenly turned soft, sad, worried. "I don't know what I'd do without you... I've already lost my best friend. I won't lost you too...."**

**"Kakarott? Who cares about him? Pheh!"**

**"Vegeta..." She pleaded. "I won't let you go!" She gave him that famous glare, that no-BS voice, the one ace she could play to infinity, but Vegeta played by the rule of Spitz*.**

_*In the card game, "War", Spitz is the rule where a Two beats the otherwise unbeatable Ace._

**"Bulma." he kissed her long and passionate, until she was putty in his arms. She was left gasping for breath by the time he had finished and let her go, leaving her to lean against the doorframe of the then-unscathed Capsule Corp. main building within the huge complex. Vegeta first scanned the area for other people before saying his following, last statement he ever would to his wife on Earth. "Bulma, I promise I'll always love you if you'll do the same for me, just let me do what I have to. Farewell, Bulma."**

**She could only watch helplessly as her Prince blasted off and slowly disappeared into the distance, much slower than the azure-haired beauty knew he could have.**

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Halfway back to reality, Bulma wondered if the arrogant prince knew that those few moments would be the last of his time with her, that that kiss would be the last one he would receive on Earth. Maybe that's why he only promised his love, not his life, why that kiss was so long and passionate, why he flew so slowly, why he had that lost, lonely look on his face.... Why he finally cemented his vows with those four words, "I'll always love you". And she was determined to uphold her half of the deal.

Bulma's train of thought suddenly de-railed. "Oh no, here I am being nostalgic when my son is waiting for his cure!" Bulma mumbled to herself and immediately resumed her work.

Meanwhile, in his room...

Trunks lay back on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. It had been a terribly long time since he dispatched the androids and Cell, the bionic menace, but the 'Corp. still hadn't received its long-overdue remodeling appointment. He sighed and ate another carrot from the stash of raw ones beside his bed. The two-foot high pile was a good snack for the ravenous man, but his brain seemed to have too much to digest at the time.

A stupid bar, a stupid metal bar had done it when not even his sound early-on beatings from the androids could. He had been helping some of the world's sparse population to rebuild homes, at least temporary ones until better ones could be furnished and... He never sensed it, saw it, heard it coming. A single hard smack on the back of his neck severed the ties between his primary, thinking nervous system, or PNS, and secondary, ki-directing one, or SNS. Sure, his body sure naturally stored energy even when there was no way for him to channel it (and he was now at full power), but without the ability to call on that power, it just sat there and grew, demanding his body to create larger storage areas for the nutrient it would turn into the fuel for young man's enormous ki.

Of course, none of this is normal. The huge appetite, extraordinary strength, ki (whatever that is, am I right ;), and did Bulma mention something about a _tail_? An average man would never even dream possible the amazing accomplishments Trunks had achieved, and he had done it with relative ease at that. And I'm pretty sure no modern human has been recorded as having a tail, and what's Ozaru? Well, Trunks is not an ordinary man, and not human at that. Well, at least not totally. His father was the prince of a nearly extinct race of extraordinary hunter/fighters called the Saiyans. A Saiyan isn't just another _race_ as previously mentioned, but an entirely different species all together. They came from a planet called Vegeta (the same name as every male member of their royal family) and had been planet conquerors (hence how nearly all the universe now loathes them) for an evil alien lord named Frieza (whom ended up destroying the Saiyan home world along with nearly all the Saiyans) before Bulma's childhood friend (an Earth-rooted Saiyan who's original Saiyan name had been Kakarott before he was re-named Goku by the man who discovered him in his space pod when he first crash-landed on Earth) finally put an end to his reign of terror. But Goku had died of a heart virus before the real terror began...

When Goku had still been a child, one with extraordinary strength and a gentle demeanor, he foiled the first Earth-dominating plans of an evil scientist named Dr. Gero. The enraged doctor had spent all the time between his first defeat and six months after Goku's death (of which he had not been informed of) preparing and programming two androids, two deadly assassins, to finally achieve his revenge.

But the mad doctor had made an error, as all humans must. The deadly duo he had created turned on him, fearing that they would be shut down after their primary objective had been carried out.

With the deranged doctor disconnected, the duo discovered their objective already done. So with nothing better to do, they engaged in a sadistic contest of destruction between each other, often claiming "10 points for every building I destroy" or "10 points for every human I hit" and the like. With Goku, the strongest Saiyan ever to live out of the way, his friends, son, and acquaintances were left to defend the Earth (or Chikyu, as they often called it). Only Gohan (8 years old at the time) survived the first confrontation and merely lost his left arm in a future one. Trunks was still a baby. Later on, when Gohan grew to be an adult and Trunks reached age 11, the former trained the latter in the art of the Saiyan fighting heritage. During one such training session, disaster struck once more. The androids attacked a city adjacent to their sparring grounds. Gohan, fearing his pupil would get himself killed by rushing in after him, knocked Trunks out and took the androids on, giving a new meaning to the phrase "single-handedly". Though he would have been a good match for either one had he caught them alone, the deadly duo always attacked together. Without a second arm or any reinforcements to aid him, he lost his life.

By the time Trunks came around, night had fallen and a storm was first beginning. He searched the streets for his best and only friend, but sensed not a trace of his comrade's ki. 

He only located his mentor at last by the old-fashioned means of a visual search, and immediately wished he hadn't.

There, in the middle of the street, laying facedown in a puddle of rainwater was the second last person Trunks had left-dead. That rainwater may have been Trunks's own tears for what a crushing blow this was to the youth's spirit. At the moment Trunks confirmed his fears by checking Gohan's pulse and finding his blood still, a new emotion surged within him. Pain, sorrow, loss, grief, anger, and finally rage, all gripped him in rapid succession. It wasn't fair! It wasn't _fair!_ _**IT-JUST-WASN'T FAIR!**_

Then, something happened. It was if a dam within him suddenly burst, all its contents gushing forth with 100% of its full fury. Trunks was screaming, but he didn't know it at first. He had lost himself to the rage. His fists were clutched so tight that his short, stubby nails drew blood. Other changes had happened to him also. His Saiyan heritage was, for the first time, showing itself to its zenith. A bright golden aura manifested brilliantly around him like a fire and scorched everything it touched other than the clothes on his body. His hair spiked up toward the heavens, losing its silky fineness to reach like many knives toward the darkened sky, and flickered involuntarily between his natural lavender and a brilliant gold before staying the new-sprung color. His eyes... Where once they shone a brilliant, pure, innocent, childlike blue, now they were a single, monotonous teal plate. He no longer fostered a pupil within them and where once they contained hope, optimism, and faith, they were now seething with rage, like an angry sea. 

Then his vocal chords gave out. Trunks sank to his knees, but retained the transformation he had undergone. He had, in his moment of unimaginable grief, attained the "Golden Fleece" of his father's race: Super Saiyanism. In this form, the first of many levels, his ki level reached the numerical value of millions (whereas the strongest human being known to that time had a power level of 175). It also clearly outlined of what lineage he had sprung from, the Saiyans. 

The rain was full force now. Trunks let a single tear escape from one eye, though it was almost unnoticeable in the torrential downpour. Right there, the young half-Saiyan vowed that never again would he allow the androids to hurt anyone so close to him.

But it was already too late for Gohan.

Since then, his mother had created a time machine, which they together had named "Hope". Their joint agreement was that if they couldn't save their own world, then they could at least create an alternate timeline in which none of these tragedies ever occurred. So Trunks set off to the past with medicine for Goku's heart virus and information that would save the latter's friends' lives. 

The mission was a success-not without a few major and minor setbacks, of course-and even provided Trunks with the knowledge and preparation for the defeat of the androids on his world and the previously unknown menace lurking just over the horizon

But none of that mattered now, so far away and beyond it. No evil would ever bother Chikyu again (in Trunks's lifetime). He just wanted his ki back.

Trunks stared harder at the ceiling, trying desperately to use some sort of ki attack. Whether he created a glowing ball of energy, blew something up (not Capsule Corp. or something that would hurt anyone, mind you), or withheld a brief power up, he just wanted to feel the old sensation again. 

He traced all the steps in his mind, not forgetting even one, but when the time came to execute his chosen attack; he found the ability... missing. 

He sighed and rolled over to view his favorite weapon lying in the corner of the dimly lit room, a single ray of light reflecting off the polished blade. His sword (repaired since he had damaged it while battling the androids) was now the only weapon he could use, given the fact he could no longer forge one out of ki as the situation need be; a technique he had learned around his thirtieth birthday. 

"Can't dodge bullets anymore either." He laughed aloud at the irony of his statement. He was the worlds last superhero, more powerful than the made-up Super Man could ever hope to be, but he had fallen and needed his mother's help to get up.

"Like an infant." He continued the thought, smiling gravely to himself.

But no, this wasn't a time for remembering sad events; it was a time for anxious hope, celebration, and hopefully, joy. 

He didn't have the time to wait for the anxious pert to ferment, for right at that moment, his mother called him down. He obeyed her.

"Trunksie! I'm finished!" Bulma was overjoyed as she told her son the good news when he arrived by her side.

"Great! What are you waiting for? Give me the zap! I can't wait!" he was nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement.

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_"The light at the end of the tunnel is probably the headlamp of an oncoming train." __Source unknown_

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"Hold on one minute! We need to take this outside!" the slate-blue haired woman commanded.

Out of a single moment of consideration, Trunks added an afterthought while kicking a small shred of metal with the word "_Hope!!!_" scrawled across it. "You know, it's a shame we had to tear apart the old 'Hope' to make that little ray gun, but I guess it's either the 'Hope' or my ki..." Trunks was calm, but he fidgeted a little bit with his watch. Though smudged with dirt and scratched from years of use (since he had been 12), the glowing, monotonous neon green display clearly read "8:15 PM".

"Trunks, stop playing with everything you find! You'll trip again!" Bulma advised him seriously.

"Mom!" the lavender haired man whined like a child. "I'm not _that_ clumsy!"

"You were before." She replied, exhaling.

Trunks stood there, mouth agape, searching for the words to combat with his mother's latest verbal strike. He found none.

"That round goes to me." Bulma smiled, the cockiness of her teenage years returning for a moment.

Moments later, they were set up outside and ready to go. Both were overjoyed at this latest achievement, this latest incarnation of their shared hopes, their unified dreams.

Bulma set the device on its stand and aimed it toward Trunks, letting the computer take its precision to a level she could not achieve unaided.

"Ready, Trunks?" she asked as if expecting him to turn back, the old feeling of uncertainty still striving to force its way to the front of her mind...

"I'm not getting any younger, Mom! Let's go! The sooner, the better!" Trunks knew little, if any, the irony of his statement.

"Alright! On three!" Bulma smiled back, marveling at her son's courage to test an untested device, to put his own life and well-being on the line in hopes to regain the power he once had, though in the current world, he already had everything he would ever need and more.

Trunks would pay for his greed. He had once tasted what true power felt like and would try anything to get it back, just like his one-time-adversary, Cell, had. They both did and will pay for their power-gluttony, but this hunger was only natural for a Saiyan...

"One,... two,... three!" Bulma took one last look at her crippled (though no one could tell if they hadn't known him before the accident) son before pressing the "start" button and crossing her fingers, leaving the rest up to chance. Unfortunately, lady luck was not smiling on the Briefs family on that day, nor would again for a while.

A bright beam of pure white light shot out from the mouth of the "gun" and engulfed Trunks, hitting him hard enough to temporarily knock him off balance. Once he got used to it, Trunks stood up once again and the second step of the process began. Bulma had figured the first blow would knock him off balance, if not completely over, so she had programmed a delay to allow her son to regain his composure. 

The beam of light continued to brighten around Trunks, who possessed an unreadable expression on his face. Bulma could almost feel her son being healed, gaining strength, and becoming whole once more.

Then, something strange happened. The machine uttered an eerie whirring noise and instead of the gentle aura the ray of light once provided, Trunks's whole body seemed to radiate as another source of the same light...

And his figure seemed to be thinning out too!

"Oh no!" Bulma screeched. "Trunksie, something's wrong!"

_To be continued..._

Hehe. I kinda left you hanging there... Well, never fear! Episode 2 will be out soon enough! For me, it's to my nice warm bed... Hopefully, a good night's rest will cure my burned-out brain. Yep, 3 tests today, all (hopefully) aced. That can and will burn me out. I hope you like this, it's straight of my 2nd draft, no revising in-between, and I mean none. I'm expecting numerous flames for an unrivaled ammount of spelling and gramatical errors... But that comes with the job! Flame away! Oh, and a good review here and there is always nice. The more of those I get, the sooner Ep2 comes out! ;P FIRE AWAY! And goodnight!


	2. Loss of Hope

_**Episode 2 - Loss of Hope**_

_If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly._

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created _by me_ to be used _by me_ and to be written _**by me**_. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the future topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. **Mirai Trunks:** "Uh, SW? I think you're boyfriend is a bit P.O.ed with the happenings of the last episode..." **A clip of SW's boyfriend with steam coming out of his nose and ears** Erm, I guess... Hey, Superguy! Wasup? **SW's BF:** "Don't 'Wasup' me, SW! I saw him flirting with you, and you didn't even slap him silly!" Well, erm, that can be explained. You see, I'm his bestest best #1 fan, and he was forgiving me for what I do to him in this story, and... **SW's BF:** "SW!!!" Uh... We'll be back in a flash, folks! Looks like you'll be seeing a bit of a side story up here, "How Young Hearts Rip and Tear at Each Other Over SW!!!" **MT and SW's BF shake their heads exasperatedly** No? **The moment passes and SW's BF proceeds in kicking Mirai Trunks's butt** Sigh... Guys... Don't ask me to explain...

Enough of that, back to the story!

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A/N: Ooh! Now you get to find out what happened to Trunks! Is he ok? Is he _alive_? You'll find out! Again, I also love quoting my favorite songs and people, and often compose my own poetry and make up good quotes... But you'll find that out! Also beware my warped sense of humor (which doesn't show up fully manifested just yet in this story). It has been known to cause compulsive, contagious, chronic laughter in my readers. Beware!

_**Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...**_

_"...By now I should know;  
That in time things would change;  
So it shouldn't be so bad;  
So why do I feel so sad?..."  
__Alicia Keys, __**"Why do I Feel so Sad?"**_

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The light faded from Trunks and the device pushed itself over and fell smoking and fizzling to the ground. Trunks wasn't far behind it.

As soon as the light released him, the lavender-haired human-Saiyan hybrid collapsed to the bare ground, scarcely holding on to consciousness. 

Trunks felt as though he had been run over by a steamroller. His whole body ached and he was completely disoriented, confused. Every little sound tormented his already pounding head. When his mother rushed over to him and foundered once more over his aching body, he barely noticed over the flood of pain signals overwhelming his mind. Then everything went black...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It didn't make any sense to Bulma. What went wrong? What had she done that left her precious baby lying even more broken than before? First things first; she called out to one of her mechanical assistants (barely more than a voice controlled forklift) and instructed it to carry her beloved son to the sick room-again. Once there, she hooked him up to the many beeping and humming displays, all monitoring his various life functions. 

His body temperature and oxygen levels were naturally far too high to be considered healthy in a human, so two alarms were already going off. She muted them and switched each display to "Saiyan mode". This was a collection of data taken from her son when he was healthy. She turned all the alarms back on and covered her ears, expecting to be immediately assaulted from all sides by scores of alarms and to have her ears nearly blown off.

But instead she was greeted with an eerie silence except for the steady _"bleep, bleep"_ of the heart monitor, of course. She checked the displays, then checked them again. Impossible! Trunks was perfectly healthy, if one didn't count the extremely low blood sugar level (for a Saiyan). She quickly remedied this with a shot of pure glucose, then went back to observing her son.

He slept quite peacefully on the hospital bed, chest gently rising with each steady intake of breath. The ray had obviously thinned him out. His chest seemed to have lost some of his depth, but his muscles were as large and pronounced as ever. His face was thinner, skin softer, and he seemed almost younger...

_"It doesn't seem anything too bad has happened."_ She thought to herself, then mumbled aloud, "Now to check on that ray..."

As soon as she walked out of the room, Trunks stirred and came to, eyes snapping open like wound rubber bands. He was breathing heavily and began to sweat. Obviously, he had expected some kind of danger to face him upon awakening, but upon finding none, he relaxed once more.

He sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. He felt as though someone was riding a jackhammer on top of his head, and so laid his forehead in his hands instinctively to be rid of the pain. It worked little, but enough for him to think.

_"Where am I?"_ was his first thought, his first question. It was immediately answered by the Capsule Corp logo he recognized on everything in the room. _"Alright. Next question. What happened?"_

Immediately, he checked his watch. The nearly brand-new, black and neon green display clearly stated it to be 2:15 PM. That sounded about right to Trunks.

He thought a bit more. To his memory, he had just arrived back at the 'Corp after defeating Cell. He was getting ready for an impromptu visit to his friends in the Alternate Timeline to check on things there and inform them of his success when he discovered that a stray energy beam had passed by and melted the controls and engine of his time machine, but left the core untouched...

He stretched, his head feeling better, then suddenly stopped. The last thing he remembered wearing had been his elastic, perfectly form fitting traditional Saiyan armor. Now he wore a "Capsule Corp" T-shirt that seemed to be more than a few sizes too big.

"Ooo-kaaaaay..." he mumbled to himself, drawing out the syllables in confusion. "I'm definitely missing something here." Then he noticed the IV needle in his arm.

Saiyans are naturally afraid of needles, this being an instinct present in all the more or less animalistic species of the galaxy, and the realization that this foreign object was stuck in his arm activated a mild form of the panic state.

"IYIE!" He yelled and swiped it from its leech-like position in his arm, but was immediately assaulted by an alarm.

Bulma was walking down the hall, handling her machine carefully, and examining it even more meticulously. "Now what went wrong?" she asked herself. "Oh well. I'd better get to my workshop..." 

Just then, the alarm sounded and she rushed into the sick room to discover her son sitting upright and looking perfectly fine, minus the fact that he was covering his sensitive Saiyan ears to avoid having the course, loud screech damage them.

Bulma shut the alarm off. "Oh, Trunksie! I'm glad you're awake! Now how do you feel? Do you have your ki back?"

Trunks was confused, but checked anyway by forming a ball of energy in his hand as perfectly shaped and pure as ever. "Yeah, of course, Mom. But..." he looked even more confused now, looking at her, "what happened to you? Your hair! It's really gray!"

Bulma checked herself in a mirror. "No more than before, dear." She assured him.

"What?" he stood up quickly. Trunks had always been a short man (thanks to his father's bloodline*), but Bulma noted he had lost an additional half foot or more...

_*Old-Type Saiyans miss their 3rd spurt growth phase resulting in their average height being 5'10" fully grown in comparison to New-Type's who normally reach at least 7' or more, some having been recorded (in the anime series) at roughly 10'. The entire royal bloodline is made up exclusively of Old-Type Saiyans and 2nd class warriors on down are all New-Types (like Goku and Nappa and the like)._

And his features seemed at least 30 years younger also...

"I'm definitely missing something here." Trunks sat back down quickly and massaged his head, trying to get his brain to decipher the impossible enigma set before him.

Something suddenly struck Bulma. The memory lapse, the loss of height, the young features...

Had Bulma accidentally shaved more than just the injury off of Trunks's personal clock?

She backed off, shocked, and placed her hand over her mouth (this was unnoticed by Trunks, of course, who was still massaging his head and staring at the floor). Immediately, the facts and figures she used in the device ran swiftly through her head until... she discovered the problem.

A quick check up to her records confirmed it. Bulma had hoped to use the core of Trunks's time machine to essentially turn back the time on his PNS-SNS connection to before the accident. All of the variables had been copied correctly, but she had forgotten to isolate one section of the final equation with parentheses (a common mistake) and so turned back his entire clock. This essentially gave Trunks back 30 years of his life, but at the same time erased all his memories from all those years.

In plain English, Trunks was 17 again.

Bulma nearly broke down and cried at this new realization. The resulting formula from her mistake only worked on the things "beneath the surface", namely, Trunks's memory, facial attributes, various internal systems (including his PNS connection, but not the overall PNS which runs along the entire body throughout the surface muscles and under the skin), and skeletal system. This made it so that all of Trunks's hard training during the past 30 years still showed up in his refined production of ki energy within his PNS and increased muscle mass and power. In addition, the part of the command that would have stopped the device once the desired effect had been achieved was incorporated into a different area of the instructions. If the machine hadn't broken, if it hadn't shorted out, there was no way to tell how many years Trunks might have lost. As it was, some inconsistency had most likely occurred between Trunks's new physical and mental ages, most likely his physical age being the variable most affected. This was good, meaning that about 30 more years had just been added to his already high life expectancy of 200+ years if he died of old age (humans can expect to live 80 years before dying of old age or other natural causes. Saiyans have been seen to live past 3 centuries before passing on in their sleep without any prior warning whatsoever and could possibly live longer, but most die earlier due to the dangerous life style they live. A Saiyan at age 70 is roughly equivalent to a human in his or her 30's and a full-blooded Saiyan keeps this amount of health and vigor well into their second century before their abilities begin to wane. A human-Saiyan hybrid could probably expect these numbers to drop proportionately, but this is still far greater than any human could hope to achieve). 

At the same time, all the time his heart had to heal, all the wisdom he had gained through the years (though his troubled childhood had already taught him some hard-to-learn life lessons), every friend he had made, he didn't know existed anymore. 

His physical attributes were closest to when he was 17, but she already knew that mind and body must have lost different amounts. _"Where would that put him mentally?"_ Bulma asked herself silently. Of course, at age 17 he had just been getting ready to take his second trip to the past to try his hand at defeating the androids there... At 14 had been his trip to first warn the Earth warriors of the past and to bring medicine for Goku's heart virus, and at 21 he had defeated Cell in this timeline... But how much had his body and mind lost? Maybe he had mentality of age 25, or perhaps 12? Bulma hoped it wasn't the last one. Trunks had been nearly suicidal at age 12, threatening to slit his own wrists if the androids weren't defeated soon, but Gohan stopped him, gave him new direction, trained him to defeat the androids. Then Gohan was killed, and Trunks was no longer a hopeless shadow fighting for an impossible goal. His eyes were no longer dark and lost, but fierce and determined. She hoped he wasn't 12 again...

Bulma sighed and sat down next to Trunks, placing one arm around her son's shoulders to comfort him. This next part wasn't going to be easy, telling him what happened and all, but Bulma felt it was necessary.

"Trunks?" she began. "Let's go to the kitchen; we can talk about this over a cup of coffee, strong coffee, _really_ strong coffee."

"Mom, I hate the stuff and it doesn't do anything to me, but I could go for a Mountain Dew right now." He replied so bluntly that it was funny.

_"Oh, of course."_ Bulma thought. Trunks hadn't acquired a taste for coffee until he turned 30, and caffeine would never affect a Saiyan as much as sugar anyway. He also first began his serious Mountain Dew addiction at age 15, meaning he wasn't 12 again mentally. What a relief that was. "Alright. Mountain Dew for you, coffee for me."

Trunks followed his mother into the large kitchen and helped her get out the drinks, then sat down with her to talk.

"So, Trunks. How much do you remember?" was Bulma's first question.

"Well, didn't I just get back from defeating Cell? Or was I in a coma for what, 30 years?" he laughed at his own joke, then stopped abruptly upon noticing his mother's grave face. "Soooo..." he began tentatively. He knew that look all too well. "What happened?"

"I'm still not completely sure of everything, but with that last bit of information, it goes something like this..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So." Trunks recapped. He was on his 12th can of Mountain Dew and almost back to his old, energetic self, discounting the tremendous weight again resting on his shoulders. "Basically, I lost my ki and you created a machine to fix that. You forgot to isolate a section of whatever equation you used and instead of just healing my injury, I'm now 17 _again_ with my memory deleted only to when I was 21."

"Yes, that's putting it into the simplest terms possible." Bulma confirmed. 

"Gee, I barely understand that much. I'd hate to have you throw the hard terms at me." Trunks placed one hand behind his head and grinned sheepishly.

Bulma smiled. "The fact that the machine overloaded and broke when it did saved you a good few more years of loss, but also created some conflicting numbers in your physical and mental age. You also haven't lost any muscle mass because the machine, basically, affected your 'inside'. It may seem you're much stronger than before, but that's only 30 years of off-and-on intense training alone and with your friends."

"I have friends now too?" he asked, still surprised at his mother's previous explanation, but wanting to continue on.

"Yes, but you won't remember them and they won't really recognize you." Bulma told him.

"Ouch, that smarts." He folded his arms across his chest and looked at the floor before opening another can of Mountain Dew.

"That stuff weakens your bones and rots your teeth, you know." Bulma scolded him, changing the subject.

"And coffee stunts my growth. At least this stuff keeps me awake." Trunks countered.

_"He has a point there."_ Bulma thought as she stared at the bitter brown liquid in her cup. _"We really should drink tea, but we both hate the taste..."_

"So, what now?" Trunks asked suddenly, waking his mother from her thoughts.

Bulma could see despair in her son's eyes, despair she hadn't seen since she found him crying on her doorstep, cold and wet, after Gohan's death.

They both knew that 30 years is a long time to miss. 30 years of healing and tie making is a lot to lose. Now all of Trunks's ties were broken, all but one: her, and even that one was frayed significantly. 

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_"Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken,  
Your best friend always sticking up for you,  
Even when I know you're wrong.  
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried, romance, five-hour phone conversation,  
The best soy latte that you ever had and... me."  
__Homesick, __**"Drops of Jupiter"**_

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The only problem is that one thread of rope can not hold a whole person for very long, especially someone already so emotionally damaged as Trunks.

"I... I think I need to be alone for a while." Trunks stood up silently from his chair and nearly floated down the hall and up the stairs to his room, the same place it had been for his entire life.

His retreat was like that of a ghost, a lonely phantom of his own past come to haunt a future where he, as the world knew him, no longer existed.

Now that her son had left, Bulma let loose whatever dam that had been holding back the torrential flood of tears which had welled up inside her since the horrible realization had first found its way to the front of her mind. In other words, Bulma cried. She felt as though she had failed her son. Oh sure, she accomplished her original dream, but that dream very quickly transformed into a nightmare when her cure turned out to be worse than her son's disease. Bulma cried. All the memories, all the time, all those years were lost, and the damage, this time, was really permanent. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Trunks heard his mother's sobs all too well even from his room. With Saiyan ears, he would be able to hear a conversation (even if he couldn't make out quite what they were saying) in an open area over about 8 miles, 5 miles in a wooded area, so of course he could hear every sniffle, every pout, and each one ripped at his already torn soul. 

He was far too much of a bleeding heart to ever be considered a true Saiyan, but the last of those died along with his father. Actually, his father _had_ been the last one. Trunks was also still too much of a fighter, far too strong to be accepted in human society (having trouble not breaking things when in Super Saiyan mode, having to hold back almost all his strength when hugging his mother like trying not to squash an ant between your fingers), and now whatever mental progress he made had flown right out the window along with the possibility of more. 

Trunks opened his window and flew out, circling around to land on the roof of the half-sphere Capsule Corp building, a place he had frequently gone to before to clear his head.

The night sky was absolutely beautiful. Only a few lights shone over the recuperating city, darkening the already clear sky to allow Trunks to see what he believed to be all the stars in the universe. The stars twinkled and danced like tongues of fire amidst the ebony, velvety robe of the heavens. 

"Ooh, I'll have to write that down." Trunks thought to himself. With Saiyan-human eyes, he had the shape and movement distinction and tracking abilities of a full Saiyan with the added bonus of the ability to see more than just 4 changing hues and to distinguish beauty. Saiyans may have one up on humans in most things, but humans can see beauty, color, and have a much more balanced thinking pattern than their stronger look alikes. While full Saiyans fall back on instinct, intuition, and mood to solve problems, Trunks has a more intelligent, balanced approach. It's not like Saiyans are less intelligent than humans (they have 10 more IQ points than humans do on average); it's just that their strengths lie elsewhere. Trunks lucked out; he got the best of both species, but also all of their worst weaknesses. He thought about these things as he gazed at the stars.

Trunks knew he no longer had a place on Chikyu, Earth, his home, the one he had protected for so long and saved twice. After all, what use is a warrior to his people in peacetime?

Trunks couldn't get a job with his ki back now. Without the knowledge of how to control its increased level, he might still be able to work with metals, but he'd break wooden boards without meaning to.

He was a gentle giant of only 4'10" in height, a short Saiyan! Who ever heard of a short Saiyan? So what if it was his father's entire fault, being an Old-Type and that. 

And another thing about Trunks: he has never uttered a cuss word in his life (even the part he doesn't remember, even right after Gohan died, even while fighting the androids).

"I guess I'm just a softie..." he mumbled aloud to himself before searching the stars for more answers.

"Maybe somewhere out there, there is a place I could start over, where I could forget about the androids, forget the hate, the hurt, the helplessness." He spoke out loud to himself. "I know there are still worlds out there in need of warriors, battles to be fought, lives to be saved. And maybe, just maybe, there's a place out there for me."

_To be continued..._

Woohoo! Episode 2 is finally up! How do you like it? **audience chants: "GREAT!!! AWESOME!!! KEEP IT COMMING!"** Well, I'm glad to hear that 'cuz I'm extending the suspension on "The Black Plague"! **Audience goes quiet** *Cricket, Cricket* **Eats the cricket** Eh em, where were we... Oh yeah, and it's only until I get to 5 episodes on this story. I think you can survive... Besides, until I re-draft it, "The Black Plague" really starts to fall apart anyway. Woo hoo! And it's only 8:03 PM here too! I still gots 30 min. to go read other stories! Yay! Remember, R&R! Read & Review! The more helpful, honest, nice, yet truthful reviews I get, the faster the next few episodes come out! And you don't want to miss these! Well, actually, we get into the really good stuff at around Ep. 8+... And Ep. 5 if you like a different kind of action... Well, bai bai for now! ;)


	3. A Way to Cope

_**Episode 3 - A Way to Cope**_

_If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly._

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created _by me_ to be used _by me_ and to be written _**by me**_. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the future topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. 

And now, the mini-series, "_How Young Hearts Rip and Tear at Each Other Over SW_"! **MT and SW's BF shake their heads, then resume beating the crap out of each other and throwing insults back and forth**

SW's BF: "You run like an old lady who has an emu stapled to her back!" He takes a swing and connects with MT's face.  
MT: Spitting, "Oh yeah? Pretty boy? Go cry to your mama!"  
SW's BF: "'Pretty boy'? Who are you calling 'pretty boy', you purple-haired freak!"  
MT: "Freak?"  
SW's BF: "Yeah, I said 'freak', freak!"  
MT: "That's it!" He weaves an intricate pattern across his chest with his hands then holds them out at SW's BF. "BURNING ATTACK!"  
The flames race out toward SW's BF and it looks like it's all over when...  
They fizzle and die.  
**SW:** "If I've told you once, I've told you 1,000 times! No ki attacks in the disclaimer! Remember last time you did one of those burning attacks and caught my site on fire? You completely destroyed my backup files, Mirai!"  
MT: "Oh yeah, forgot about that..."  
SW's BF takes advantage over this moment of confusion and attacks MT again. He kicks major @$$.  
MT: "It's not fair! How come he's as powerful as a Super Saiyan here?"  
**SW:** "Because it's my dimension and whatever I say goes."  
MT: **Mumble, mumble** "Stupid contract." **mumble** "Stupid SW." **mumble**  
SW: "WHAT WAS THAT!?"  
MT: "..."  
**SW:** "Kick his @$$, Stevo!"  
SW's BF: "With pleasure!"  
SW's BF kicks MT again and they get into an anime dust brawl.   
**SW:** "That's it. I'm calling Roselyn to settle this on her talk show for next time."  
Both guys stop instantly.  
Both guys: "NO! ANYTHING BUT THAT!"  
**SW:** "Oh yeah. Next time, '_An Interlude, Roselyn's Talk show, How Young Hearts Rip and Tear at Each Other Over SW_'! Gee, that's a long title..."  
Both Guys: "Spare us!"  
The moment passes and they continue fighting.  
**SW:** "I don't know if this is ever going to end... And it needs to! I need to think up some new ideas! Like maybe the Z gang joining a band and Vegeta gets to play the Flute and Piccolo gets to play Tuba and Goku gets to play drums and..."  
Both guys nod to each other and dump a barrel of pickles over SW's head, successfully shutting her up.  
**SW:** "That's it! **RENZUKO GIANT RIPE TOMATO ATTAAAAAACK**!"  
Thousands of giant ripe tomatoes appear and bombard SW's BF and MT while they run around screaming like little girls in pink tutus, covering their heads, and trying to dodge.   
**SW:** "That'll teach 'em to mess with SW THE GREAT!"  
Both guys shake their heads then resume running around and screaming.

Enough of that, back to the story!

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A/N: Here we go! Another loony episode in this crazy series... Wait, that's not right! This is depressing! You shouldn't be reading this! Go home! ... Actually, stay a while. I promise, it will get better, and the need for craziness is the reason there is a mini series in the disclaimer anyway... So read on, mighty reader! 

**Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...**

_"Success is how high you bounce when you hit bottom." - __Source unknown_

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Neither Trunks nor Bulma got much sleep that night, and when Trunks finally came down at breakfast time, he uttered a phrase never before heard from a healthy Saiyan, "Breakfast? Not interested." Before sitting down and crossing his arms. 

"Yes, you _are_ interested, Mister! I'm not going to let you starve yourself just because things don't go your way! You're acting like a spoiled child!" Bulma yelled, opening the cover to the relative feast she had spent the last few hours preparing for her normally ravenous son.

The heavenly aromas of the fried meats, rice, and her almost famous scrambled eggs wafted tantalizingly beneath Trunks's nose. Though his face gave no outward sign as to what he was thinking, his stomach betrayed his real feelings. It let loose a torrential roar that scared the birds off the windowsill. 

"Okay." He admitted. "So maybe I'm a little hungry." He kept his poker face throughout the statement, but Bulma read him like a book.

"Alright. Eat up, Trunksie. You're getting back on your feet whether you like it or not. You're not just going t sulk over this for the rest of your life, you know! At the very least, get a hobby!" She demanded hotly.

Trunks laughed weakly while eyeing the food, but didn't say a thing.

Bulma was right, Trunks was ravenous. He was halfway through his sixth bowl of rice before she warned him to slow down, a command which he, of course, ignored.

He received a disapproving glare from his mother upon leaning back in his chair, finished. "Okay, so I was a lot hungry." He admitted.

"Not surprising. Your blood sugar level was far too low yesterday, and even though you drank half our stash of Mountain Dew, I doubt your PNS's nutrient levels came even close to normal."

Trunks gave his mother a "put that in English" look before continuing. "Yeah, I guess I _do_ need to get on top of things..." he cleared his throat. During the night, he made an important decision. This world was no longer his world, its people no longer his people. Those things, he had left 30 years in the past, including his "real" mother. Too much had happened in those three missed decades, and yet too little. No one, to Trunks's knowledge, would ever bother Chikyu again in his lifetime, and with this plan of his, he could be contacted if that happened anyway. Sure, he could start over here, but for some reason, he really didn't want to. He didn't want the prying eyes, the pitiful gazes, and the fruit baskets. No, that's one way Mirai Trunks would never be similar to his alternate universe self, the one he had ensured existence to by traveling to the past. Mirai was shy, polite, quiet, and emotionally scarred. Chibi was anything but. In his time, Chibi was rash, rude, a punk, loud, and arrogant. All this could be blamed on the presence of Vegeta as a father figure in Chibi's life and the absence of him in Mirai's. No, Mirai was already too far-gone now to be able to start over, much less to actually take that scale of a social challenge on. "Mom?" he began, "I've made a decision and I'd like you to help me bring it to reality." 

"Trunksie? What is it? You're ok, aren't you?" Bulma asked, concerned.

"Don't worry, it's not that, it's just that I don't belong on Chikyu anymore." He shuffled his feet around and lowered his head waiting to be yelled at. That statement hadn't come out quite like he hoped. 

_"Don't belong on Chickyu!?"_ Bulma thought quickly, shocked at the conclusion her mind had jumped to. _"Oh, gawd! No, Trunksie! Don't get suicidal on me!"_

When his mother didn't say a thing, Trunks realized what she had taken his statement to be. "No, Mom! I'm not getting suicidal again! You know I learned better than that! I... I'd just like... I'd like you to help me build a spaceship. I want to leave Chikyu, travel elsewhere, maybe find some place I do belong." 

_"It's better than him threatening to slit his own wrists again..."_ Bulma thought, then immediately curbed herself. _"What am I thinking, 'better than threatening to slit his own wrists again'!? He wants to leave me, again! ...And he __**does**__ belong on Earth, with his friends, with me..."_ "Oh, Trunks! Don't leave." She approached him and hugged him as if her embrace would cement him to his home world, but it wasn't so.

"Mom, you could build a radio in, a tracker so you know where I am and how I'm doing, and maybe even a system so I could send you captain's logs, but-"

"Oh, Trunks..." Bulma interrupted him, saddened at his decision. Her son wanted to leave, perhaps for good this time, and was asking her to help him go. "I..." she began. She was about to refuse, but then saw the look in Trunks's eyes. All those years of healing were now gone, so they still harbored that weary, battle-scarred yet defiantly hopeful look; Trunks's famous look. Bulma nodded her head and Trunks grasped one of her wrinkled hands carefully. She could barely comprehend just how much strength he had to hold back to do so.

"Thank you, Mom." He showed his gratitude the only way his Saiyan heritage (despite his human upbringings) would let him know how, verbally. "You don't know how much this means to me. I-"

"Trunks." Bulma cut him off. "Just shush. It's for the best. I'll just call your friends and tell them what happened."

"Thanks, Mom." Trunks repeated himself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The planning of his spaceship's design was well underway by the end of the following week. It had to be a jack-of-all-trades ship; who knew what sort of adventures awaited the lavender haired hero? The ship, conveniently nick named "The New Hope", in no way resembled the spherical space pods so commonly seen throughout Bulma's teen to middle-aged life, but more closely resembled a modified fighter in the front complete with two guard fins that stretched toward the back along the top and bottom, but everything from the neck back was completely unique in the universe. The ship's abnormality would be essential; however, if Trunks was to be taken seriously by the galaxy's better known inhabitants. 

[][1]

_(A/N: Go to _[_http://animecinema.freeservers.com/younghearts/NewHopeBig.JPG_][2]_ to see a large, labeled top view in black and white if the above picture doesn't show. To view the above picture, which should be there, go to _[_http://animecinema.freeservers.com/younghearts/NewHopeSmall.JPG_][3]_. _

_And go here (_[_http://animecinema.freeservers.com/younghearts/NewHopeColor.JPG_][4]_) to see a side view in color.)_

First of all, Trunks would need a place to live and a place to train. Because gravity simulations take a huge amount of energy, Bulma searched for a more efficient way to cause a force to be created that would keep Trunks on the "ground". She found it in central motion. Both the living area and training room were made into "doughnuts", if you will, that would spin constantly at a predetermined speed (where 108 mph on the outer edge would equal one times Earth's gravity) and so provide a force pushing all things within it toward the outer, sloped edge of the room. The outer edges themselves would be greatly reinforced, more so the training room than the living area, so that their contents wouldn't burst out into space. The entrances to each of these wheels would be at their centers where the gravity would be weakest and there would be ladders leading down to the first and second floors the living area so what ever kind of team Trunks would pick up could chose their desired gravity. There were four rooms on each floor, eight in total. The training room itself would be much more secured and though it would be the same size as the entire living wheel (to balance the ship out), it would not have first and second floors for obvious reasons. The living area itself would be fit for four Saiyans on the outer edge (and enough food space to last them a year) and four of any smaller, weaker, less claustrophobic species. The gravity room (or wheel as anyone may desire to call it) would be constructed with a high maximum energy absorbing system which led straight to several large fuel converters complete with auxiliary batteries. The engines and fuel tanks themselves were highly efficient but required an uncommon fuel compound to work. The by-product of the "burning" fuel would be changed back into that compound using the fuel converters that run from the ki Trunks gives off while he's training. In essence, as long as the young man had food to eat and time to train, he would never run out of fuel. He would just have to be careful not to train too much for the energy required or the extra ki energy would escape elsewhere...

Then there was the waste management facility. Though Saiyans waste extremely little of what they eat, there was no telling what kind of rag-tag, motley crew Trunks would pick up on his adventures.

There were activities too. Bulma would include CD's of brainwork and leisure for Trunks to essentially go through college on and to take a break from whatever he would be doing.

Then there were the particulars of the fighter end. The raw energy that the engines produced would also be capable of running the shields that could be cast from the guard fins around the ship for a short time. Though these artificial shields would be relatively weak to the kind of shielding Trunks used in his battles versus the androids, they would be essential in navigating through asteroid fields, dodging small fire, and other otherwise tedious piloting tasks. The energy could also be concentrated into high-intensity laser fire. Though the ship could only keep this up for a short amount of time, once Trunks got into the pilot's seat, he could supply the ship directly with his own ki.

Ki and rocket energy are two different, almost opposite forms of energy. While ki can be deftly handled and concentrated into an almost solid, destructive wave (which can be a barrier or a blast), rocket power is used primarily for thrust, not weapons. In the pilot seat, Trunks would provide the correct kind of energy right away without the warm up and cool down processes it would take the ship's reactors to convert the fuel-provided energy into weapon's energy. 

And the ship was relatively fast and maneuverable too. It wouldn't fare quite as well as a strict fighter ship would in a dog fight, but this was more of a utility ship and Trunks would always suit up, hop out of the airlock, and blast the opposing ship away with one of his own special attacks, provided there was enough time for him to get there.

Bulma was quite confident that her son was the strongest fighter in the galaxy, being a Super Saiyan with no other Saiyans to compete with.

(A/N: Feh, yeah right. Where would the fun be if both those conclusions were true?)

Also, one room was designated for the storage of various high-efficiency oxygen-producing plants to ensure that Trunks would have air to breathe.

There was also a fair amount of personal space aboard the ship's many facilities (an absolute necessity when one considers the "acute" affliction of claustrophobia present in all Saiyans' instincts along with an overwhelming fear of being trapped). 

The only way that this was possible was because of an invention of Bulma's father: the capsule. It didn't have a fancy name, but nowhere else in the universe had anyone made this tremendous scientific breakthrough. A capsule, the size of a clothespin on average, can store anything inside it ranging from a pocket calculator and smaller to a large palace at the largest, depending on the model and make of the capsule. Capsules were expensive, but extremely durable equipment that everyone used; you couldn't travel without them! Of course, people and living things could not be stored inside them. Unfortunately, after the androids arrived Capsule Corp. had shut down operation and Bulma's father died, so capsules became very difficult to come by as Bulma Briefs, Trunks's mother, was the only person left alive who knew how to build them and always kept a hefty stash. 

Of course, everything on the ship from Trunks's sword to his next meal would be capsulated and one capsule-the size of two "D" batteries-would be reserved for the entire ship. This was Bulma's best one and it was capable of storing the entire Capsule Corp complex when it had still been whole.

With the plans drawn up (by computer, of course) and only the actual ship left to be assembled, Trunks and Bulma's hopes seemed to be manifesting before their very eyes. That was, until...

"Uh oh." Bulma worried while going over the plans again.

"Uh oh? Oh no, that can't be good." Trunks paced around behind her. "What's wrong?"

"The engine. Its parts are far too fragile for you to work with, too heavy for me to lift. I'd break my back working with some of this stuff!"

"That's bad." Trunks nodded, verbally confirming it to himself.

"Trunks, stop pacing. You'll wear a hole in the floor." Bulma scolded him.

"Oh, sorry." The above mentioned lavender haired youth obeyed his talented mother and just stood behind her, reading over her shoulder and trying to help.

"That's better. Now, we need to think of a solution..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"_Ding dong_" the doorbell rang. Bulma answered it.

"Hello! Timothy, Michael, Andrew, please come in." She greeted them.

"Uh, thanks, Mrs. Briefs." A tall, buff, mousy-brown haired man in his mid-forties replied. His name was Timothy.

"Yeah, thanks." Andrew, a shorter, more casual, intelligent-looking, red haired man seconded his friend.

It was Michael who asked the question that the three middle-aged men were all wondering. "Uh, Mrs. Briefs? Is it really true that Trunks won't remember any of us?"

"I'm sorry, but yes, it's true. He was the same memory of when he was 21 and the physical features of when he was 17." Bulma confirmed their fears once more. "It's just like I talked to you on the phone about."

"Ouch." Timothy remarked.

These three men became Trunks's best friends after he had returned from defeating Cell. Now, all of those years they had spent together training, pulling pranks, having fun, and being, well, guys... all that was now gone from the demi-Saiyan's memory.

"I'll call him." Bulma told the guys. "Trunks!" she yelled, "Your friends are here!" Trunks came in from the next room covering his ears.

"Ah, Mom! I knew they were here! You didn't have to go and blow out my ears! Owaah..." He continued cringing from the sensory overload.

"He hasn't changed all that much." Mike commented. "If you can't beat him in a straight fist fight, yell in his ears!"

All three guys laughed at that, but Trunks was no longer capable of understanding their inside jokes. He regained his composure and approached them.

"So, you three were my friends? What are your names again?" He asked.

Andy gave the guys a helpless look and relayed the information to the clueless Trunks. "Oh come on, Fearless Leader! I'm Andy, this is Mike, and that big lummox over there is Tim."

"Hey!" Tim boxed Andy for that comment after taking about 3 seconds to realize he had been insulted.

Trunks laughed. "We must have been quite some group."

"That we were, Fearless Leader." Mike sighed, eyes slightly glossy.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Trunks? I mean, leave Earth and us behind?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, the gang without you is like Bonnie without Clyde, Rocky without Bullwinkle, the Rugrats without Tommy! Come on, Fearless Leader! Stay a while." Andy tried to persuade him.

Trunks took one look at their hopeful faces, the faces of strangers he didn't know, and they no longer knew him. "That may be so, but try replacing Tommy with a wooden board some time. That's not the kind of leader you guys need. My place isn't here anymore, and 30 years is way too long of a time for me to miss. And I'd never catch up..."

"He has a point." Andy whispered while elbowing Mike mischievously. Trunks smiled inwardly as he could hear what they were saying even if they didn't want him to. 

Those three men were fighters themselves, each strong enough to thwart most of the terrible evils Trunks could see the Earth facing, and together they were about ¼ (one fourth for those people who can't see the symbol) as strong as Trunks (an impressive accomplishment). They had become the Earth's new Special Forces, the new Z Team, whereas, the old Z Team included such familiar faces as Krillan, Goku, and Trunks's father, Vegeta.

"Well, Trunks, I guess this is best for you. I'll help you, and I hope the others will too." Mike told him, then hugged him suddenly. "I'm gonna miss you, man!" He began to get teary eyed and his voice cracked. He had always been the softie, the most nostalgic of the group.

"Don't worry," Trunks assured him, patting his back, "Mom already made a really powerful data transfer system so I can send captain's logs back to you so you know how I'm doing." He held the older man out at arm's length now and smiled sincerely, a feat his father had never claimed.

"_Sniffle_" "Thanks, man." Then he seemed to dry up. "Alright, guys! Let's get this beast built!"

_To Be Continued..._

ALRIGHT! Here's another Episode! Because Nihongo updated, I posted this! Two more episodes and then I start work on Chapter 4 of "The Black Plague"! Plus there is another work lurking in the shadows... Tell me what you think of this little piece I composed for another possible story to be added to my ever-growing library:

_"The world's first true love;  
sprung from its foulest hate;  
must vanquish a great evil;  
before it's too late.  
Two great societies;  
are powerful foes;  
but together boast more;  
than anyone knows."_

I still don't know if I'm going to actually go through with it, but if I do, I will be able to add an interresting item to "The Black Plague"'s plot. Yep, this is the story I was talking about crossing over with... Well, goodnight, all!

   [1]: NewHopeBig.JPG
   [2]: http://animecinema.freeservers.com/younghearts/NewHopeBig.JPG
   [3]: http://animecinema.freeservers.com/younghearts/NewHopeSmall.JPG
   [4]: http://animecinema.freeservers.com/younghearts/NewHopeColor.JPG



	4. Liftoff!

Episode 4 - Liftoff!

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written by me. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the future topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. 

(A/N: I'm too tired to do the talkshow this time. Sorry, but it will be postponed 'till next time. Read the bottom of the page for more details.)

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A/N: Yay! Finally, after much delay (I was grounded by my parents **twiddles her thumbs and looks innocent** What? Haven't you ever been grounded before? Rhetorical question there), Episode 4 is finally out! YAY! Okie, now I just have to think up a new disclaimer mini series Hmmm Oh well. I'll think one up later. For now, you just have to read this episode, k? Oh, and I just have to get out one more episode before I start working on "The Black Plague" again. Ain't that nifty? ("Nifty"? "Nifty"!? Who says "Nifty" anymore? Jeez, I need to go drink some more Mountain Dew before I Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.)

Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...

"Live out of your imagination, not your history." - Stephen R. Covey

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Three weeks, three whole weeks of 18 hour days and 6 hour nights, three weeks of work to which ordinary men would have hung up their hats, and the New Hope was complete and ready for takeoff.

Trunks was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling and fumbling with his sword late that night. There was so much ahead of him! Two days of rest had already gone by and liftoff was tomorrow morning. "Well, this morning." Trunks corrected his thoughts, checking his watch. All of his personal items besides the sword were already capsulated and loaded into the ship's cargo area so his room was bare save the ghostly remnants of furniture that would remain on Chikyu. Trunks glanced to his bedside table where the only "family" picture ever taken with Vegeta not blowing the camera up afterward once rested.

It was taken right before Goku had gotten sick at a picnic the Z team, friends, and family were at. Everyone was there and Trunks was still an infant. Goku stood in the back, towering over the rest of the team and smiling his famous smile, as happy and healthy as ever. Vegeta, arms crossed, stood next to Bulma who held an infantile version of Trunks in one arm and the other arm holding one of the ornery man's arms firmly. She had a metal band around that arm's wrist which could easily be mistaken for a bracelet, but it was actually one end of a pair of handcuffs, the other end strapped on the concealed wrist of her Veggie-chan. Though Vegeta could have easily broken them he dared not upset "the woman" for fear of one of her verbal sparring matches. He scowled just as much as usual, if not more for the fact he was having his picture taken ("Or else," Bulma had told him, "You're sleeping on the couch for the next week and I'm not fixing your training room!" That was yet another one of Bulma's aces).

Trunks had an oddly satisfied look on his face. Why? He had just filled his diaper as the picture was taken. Vegeta got a kick out of that, literally, for laughing at Bulma's one-moment-later horrified look. 

From what Trunks was later told the day seemed to be perfectly normal. Vegeta was grouchy, Goku was carefree, Gohan was playing around, and the other guys had a heated game of football going (to which the Saiyans weren't invited because they always ended up popping the ball). Who would have ever guessed that it would be the day Goku got sick?

The original red flag was raised when Goku declared himself to be "not hungry". The following silence was nearly deafening in its sharpness, broken only by the sound of Krillan's head meeting the football on a forgotten pass. Not even a cricket chirped.

Of course, no one could have guessed that he was sick. With a Saiyan immune system, the symptoms of his ailment didn't even surface until the virus had nearly destroyed him from the inside out.

Goku didn't suffer much after he fell ill-it only took him two days to die, fighting to the last. The rest of the Z senshi suffered greatly, however. No longer did they look to the enemy in an all-out fight for survival, but realized their death could be brought about by something they could neither foresee nor prepare for. 

Trunks examined the handle of his sword again; its base was meticulously detailed, his name inscribed in the silver plating in an elaborate script. The handle itself was made of leather, well worn and impressed with his handprints from age. He wondered just what kinds of challenges and rewards the universe held for him. Earth was on the very edge of the galaxy, much too far away from what he expected to be the center of commerce for the other aliens to care much about it, despite its indisputable attraction to the most powerful protagonists and antagonists of the universe. (Frieza, Vegeta, Goku, Piccolo, Kami, Tien The list goes on and on.) That, and from Bulma's research and observations, Chikyu and it's solar system was right in the middle of a "wasteland" of worthless space debris serving as a thick insulation for that lone gleaming sapphire, Earth.

Trunks would, first of all, head over to New Namek (home of the Nameks, or Piccolo and Kami's race) for directions to the galactic center of commerce, then proceed on his way from there. Trunks knew where the Namekian planet was located due to the fact that Goku had used his "instant transmission" technique to sweep the galaxy for it and had come back with its location plus a new friend. Actually, Dende had been Gohan's childhood buddy, but that's not the point.

Trunks smiled; his thoughts jumping to the going away party the guys had thrown for him the previous night. They had gotten themselves drunk, but Trunks "couldn't legally drink" due to his decreased average physical age of 17, though his height was returned to a score that he had passed much earlier in his life. That was ok though because alcohol doesn't do a single thing to Saiyans anyway. Lemon juice and honey works like a charm, though, for some strange reason. It's almost like an elephant tranquilizer shot to Saiyans. Not even Bulma has figured out why yet.

His thoughts skipped to another unpleasant memory, one he has lived with for quite some time. All those innocent people he could have saved had he just started training a little bit earlier, had he just not been so selfish, had he tried just a little bit harder Their dying screams cut sharply through his consciousness and sent him cringing.

But that was over with now, nothing could be done. Much more than a year had passed since those deaths took place, and since one year was the limit for the use of the Dragon Balls to undo any wrongs committed And Chikyu no longer had a set, what with Piccolo and Kami gone and Dende without the knowledge of how to create new ones.

Trunks sighed once more and capsulated his sword. He had better get some sleep; he would be having a big day.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The morning came all too soon, and before long Trunks was outside and saying his last good-byes and receiving his final instructions.

"And all of the information, blueprints, and some essential spare engine parts are in capsules 87F through 103Z. The cargo log is in this capsule." Bulma handed the tiny, mini corn dog shaped, white painted device to her son. The only part that wasn't white was a label with a blue background and black lettering that clearly read "87E". "There are Senzu beans in capsule 208S. And remember never, ever to let the atomic pressure gauges in the training room or on the engines to function over 320%. Make sure to change the plant's nutrients once or more every 6 months! You wouldn't want to run out of oxygen, would you?"

"Are you sure we can't come with you? It would be like our greatest adventure yet!" Mike pleaded with Trunks.

"And leave Chikyu completely unguarded? You guys are still needed here, I don't belong." Trunks replied suddenly saddened even more.

"And where else do you belong?" Tim said hotly, annoyed at Trunks's decision to leave them and perhaps being a little selfish.

"About 30 years in the past, and space is the next best thing." The lavender haired youth told them. "I thought we went over this."

"Yeah, I guess we did" Tim placed one had behind his head in a classic "oh yeah" pose, one which is used by all people alive in this universe quite often.

"Well, I guess I should be off then. Goodbye, everyone." With that, he turned to go, but was interrupted when Bulma latched herself onto his back to give him one last hug.

"Be careful!" She told him, near tears. "Promise me you'll come back alive!"

"Hey, Mom! I'm a Super Saiyan! Don't worry, I promise." He replied as if it were common sense.

Bulma couldn't help but think that Super Saiyanism didn't make a dent in Vegeta's fate, but her thoughts were cut short when Timothy joined the hug, followed reluctantly by the other two guys and shortly after returned by Trunks. She was just happy that the four super strong men had enough common sense not to crush her frail figure. After a few short moments, Bulma squirmed out of the embrace just in time to avoid the next round of farewells.

"Take care, man" Andy told him.

"We'll miss you!" Tim hugged him tighter, a tear visible in one eye.

"Don't be a stranger, come back and visit sometime!" Mike offered.

"Don't worry." Everyone let go and Trunks continued. "I promise! I'll come back and visit sometime."

"While we're still alive?" Andy asked.

"While you're alive, and hopefully still young." Trunks nodded, agreeing.

"Yeah, look who's talking! You Saiyans don't get 'old' until you're like 200!" Mike teased, rolling his eyes.

Trunks smiled and merely said "bye" a final time before walking into the ship and taking the pilot's seat.

He initiated the launch sequence and his mother and friends cleared the area. 

"Engines: Green, at 20% and rising. Cabin pressure: Green. Engines at 30%." The feminine voice of the computer stated calmly. Down the checklist and displays Trunks went. As the engine output rose, so did his anticipation along with a slight feeling of regret, regret for leaving this place. It was the same feeling he had when he left his home in the alternate timeline, the past. That time he had to leave, but that wasn't the case now. Sure, he could start over, he could make new friends, and he could leave the universe to itself and just live in this little blue bubble. Sure, he could stay.

But it seemed that the Saiyan version of combat fatigue had caught up with him. All his life, he had been fighting. Though Trunks convinced himself that he was doing his duty, using his power for the good of the universe, in reality the underlying reason was slightly more selfish. It was the result of his Saiyan heritage, his Saiyan pride: Trunks was addicted to the thrill of battle, he thrived off the adrenaline rush. Just like a true addiction, one fight led to the need of another, greater challenge and he would never be satisfied. Fortunately for his current mental condition, Trunks didn't know this; he still felt he was the hero. 

He didn't think that he could go down the same dark path that this same drive led his father down. And that path led ultimately to his destruction. Such was the way of this inordinate amour propre. 

Trunks sighed and watched the bright holographic display as the engine output rose. 50%, 55, 60, 65, 69, 72, 73

The digital needle climbed the final few numbers to the desired level of 75%. It was a powerful engine, and 75% was perhaps more than needed for a launch off Earth.

The increased G forces were nothing to Trunks, who had trained in the gravity chamber in excess of 400G's daily, and that was only a warm-up. Sure the 20 or more G's caused him to subconsciously emit a small amount of ki to steady himself as his half-human build only allowed him to stand up to 10G's effortlessly and unaided by a machine or ki, but it was a pittance of a price to pay for the other benefits. 

In only a few seconds, Trunks was accelerated and out of the atmosphere, watching the Earth and moon fade from view via the electronic display. The sight was beautiful as that gleaming sapphire, adorned with its ashen satellite, rotated slowly around each other as if in an endless waltz Trunks took a picture.

If Trunks had more than the few ties he remembered there, it would have been a heart-wrenching sight, but the Chikyu he remembered was a battle scarred place where the inhabitants cowered in constant fear. They did, that is, until Trunks became powerful enough to terminate that terror once and for all.

No, Trunks was looking forward to his adventures in the heavens and was nearly glad to leave the harbor of such nightmarish memories behind. Unfortunately for him, more than a few encounters with others would cause them to surface once again. They would become his weak spot and his power, his friend and his foe. He would use them to defeat evil and they would be manipulated by evil to defeat him. The source of his power was a double-edged sword, just as easy to impale others with as to be impaled with himself. 

As the Earth faded from view and disappeared, only one thought surfaced clearly in his mind. "Next stop, New Namek!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Is it working? Hurry! Get it up!" Tim yelled, eager to boot up the tracking device that would let them monitor Trunks's progress in space. After an anxious minute of waiting, a tiny white dot appeared on the screen, blinking almost on top of another dot, Earth.

"Adjust the scaling!" Alex yelled.

"Just a minute! Genius can't be rushed, you know." Bulma replied, disgusted with their childlike behavior.

"Sorry." All three men voiced at once. Bulma sighed.

"Alright." she declared. After a few taps of a blinking blue button, the scaling was reduced enough to allow them to see the little dot representing Trunks's ship speeding away towards unknown territory. "There you go. Now, I'm going to get some lunch made. We don't need to spend every spare moment in front of that screen." The boys didn't reply, their faces already glued to the screen like it was an "I Love Lucy" weeklong marathon of new episodes. Bulma sighed. "I don't know why I bother"

To be continued

And finally, I have updated! At long last! Gee, how long has it been? ...Oh yeah... I guess it's been about 4 months... Oh well. Wanna know why? I DON'T WANNA TELL YOU! **Gets hit in the head with a frying pan** Ow... Fine. **twiddles her thumbs** I was grounded... GROUNDED, OK!? Oh well... You'll be happy to know that I've drafted up to Episode 22, but I'll be changing it a lot to reduce the amount of Episodes there will be in this adventure... Yep, Trunks is going on a campaign! For all those of you non-dorks out there who don't know what that is... A campaign in story land is a looooooooong series of adventures linked in some way to a final, colossal battle. An individual adventure or even a mini-series of interconnected adventures is a fraction of the whole thing. I'm thinking I'll want to do maybe 3 adventures and about 2 mini-series in this story, maybe less for time's sake. I'll only be highlighting the extremely important adventures too, the unimportant ones will be separate stories, though really good ones. The reason is that I know most of you out there don't want to listen to a whole novel at 1-episode-per-day/week/month intervals, or even the recent 4 month development. Also, I am a sophomore in high school. That means I have 2 1/2 more years before college... And I probably won't have any time then.

So enough of that. Some more good news is that the other story I was talking about is nearing completion. The bad news is that it is 354 pages long in small print. Yep, I'll have to do some major editing there, even re-draft the entire thing. Whoo boy, and I still have The Black Plague to work on... And homework... And various other little stories... And homework... And art class... And the band tour this spring... And did I mention homework? (Note to all 8th graders: NEVER, EVER take all your hard classes in one year, ESPECIALLY not sophomore year! ...Not pleasant. Not pleasant at all.)

Well, that's enough of my ranting for tonight. And by the way, I'll have to postpone that talkshow for the next installment. I'm tired. **A groan from the audience** Yeah? Well what if I told you to write it!? HOW WOULD YOU LIKE THAT!?!? **Audience cheers** Oh no... 

Well, if you think you can do better than me, try your hand at it by e-mailing the finished product to me by Febuary 16, 2002 at willow920@hotmail.com. You will be cited, congratulated, and given a spot in my site's hall of fame. I don't have a hall of fame yet, but I will make a hall of fame special for you if you do this. Oh yeah, you're feeling special now!

Of course, if no one responds, I will do the talkshow... Eventually. Until then, you get no disclaimer mini series. Hah!

One more thing... **Twaps Nihongo over the head with two fingers** UPDATE YOUR STORY! I UPDATED MINE!

'Till next time...


	5. Space Days

_Episode 5 - Space Days_

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written _by me_. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the future topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. 

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A/N: And here it is: the lovely Episode 5! Brilliant work, Willow! Brilliant! You are such a genius! Hehe. Awww shucks. I knew that. Anyway, a big thanks to Jason for letting me quote him here and a bigger thanks to the one person who even bothered to try writing the talk show. Thank you, but I don't really appreciate swearwords being used once every two words, and mostly without any reason. As I have stated before, neither my boyfriend nor Mirai Trunks swears, though they do shout stupid insults like You run like an old lady with an emu stapled to her back! There. You still have a while to fix it, though. Thanks everyone!

Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...

"Why did you have to tell me? You should have said No, Jason. We didn't have any homework. Go live in your delusional candy land'. – Jason Novak

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Trunks's visit to New Namek was a blast. The Nameks were leery of Trunks's ship at first, but upon learning who he is, they welcomed him whole-heartedly, partied for a while, and sent him on his way with many new photos for Earth and directions to the nearest political center of the galaxy. Since Frieza's empire fell the rest of the universe reverted on its old habits, like the change of currency from standard to local, though standard was still accepted in most places.

Trunks sent many captain's logs back to Earth during his travel time in space, some of which included:

**Captain's log, day 1:**  
The takeoff was exceptionally smooth on the New Hope's maiden voyage. Space itself is beautiful, more so than I ever could have imagined back on Chikyu's terrestrial bubble. Tomorrow I will train in the gravity room, but for now I'll just take in the sights.  
Attachment: Photo of Earth from 2x-moon orbit.

**Captain's log, day 2:**  
It feels so good to vent all that energy in USSJ mode. (That is, Ultimate Super Saiyan [or Saita-jin, the alternate spelling]. Essentially, where strength is multiplied massively but speed is sacrificed as the user's bulky muscles are awkward to use.) I really would like to go SSJ2 (slightly stronger than USSJ and speed is greatly increased, but it is a much harder stage to reach), but I'll have to train more for that. Mom, I have to say you're a genius.

**Captain's log, day 7:**  
It didn't take nearly as long as expected to reach New Namek and the engines aren't even running at 75%. Today I paid the Nameks a visit. They were kind of leery of the ship and me at first because, as the elder told me, no one besides Goku has ever visited the planet before but once I told them you were my mom, they were more than eager to help out. They gave me directions to Girtopia, the largest political and commercial planet within a reasonable distance. I should reach it in about 3 weeks with this speedy little cruiser, but I'll need to do more training than usual to keep up with the energy demands. I found out something else too. It seems as though the Nameks have given up on the production and upkeep of Dragonballs. They said that they destroyed the last set 20 years ago. Actually, that's a good thing. At least now we won't have people like Frieza going after them anymore.  
Attachment: Picture of several of my new Namekian buddies and me. Left to right, Nako, Goru, me, the Elder, Kadan, and Arian.

Trunks sighed and leaned back to look at the ceiling of his room in the living area. He already took care of the needed checks for the day and even put in a little extra training, but he still had time to burn before bedtime.

He studied the metallic coating. It sloped gently upward, following the curve of the wheel, as did the floor. Everything in the living area had to be designed to fit the slope, even the beds though they had support beneath them to make sure they wouldn't collapse or cause back problems.

Trunks had to admit it: he was bored, terribly so, and almost lonely. It's been two days since he left New Namek and hadn't picked up ships or dangers on radar. Of course, that didn't mean there weren't any out there. He knew from experience that just because no sensory equipment or his own personal senses picked anything up didn't mean that he was safe, and the androids were a perfect example of this.

Well, I'd better check out the CD's then he finally decided, speaking aloud to fill the depressingly empty corridors with the sound of his own voice. Aside from the muffled din of the engines, not a tone reached his ears.

He stood up, withdrew the room, and climbed the stairs to the second, inner level of the living area. This level had a profoundly weaker gravity, but that was ok.

Trunks exited the gravitated area up and through the center of the and flew lazily down the glass-rimed bridge and to the main storage area.

This area was little more than rows upon rows of capsulated items that made up a good quarter of the ship's size. He flicked on the light and looked up the music and instructional CD's which his mother included in the packing. He pulled out information on the technicalities of the ship's build as well as some calming instrumental music. Trunks didn't know why but music always seemed like the best form of stress relief for him. He just liked it, but not so much the lyrical stuff, just the instrumentals. There was a collection of lyrical music onboard, but not quite as much as the instrumentals.

Trunks, having achieved his objective, flew off to the command center at the front of the ship and popped the CD's in.

he commanded the computer.

Both at once, Captain? the feminine voice of the computer asked.

Trunks replied and sat back in his chair, a few electromagnets working with his metal belt to hold him in place.

As you command, Captain. Bulma's voice and a soothing melody quickly replaced the computer's younger tones. Trunks concentrated hard on trying to understand the facts, figures, and graphs set before him and frequently asked for pauses and replays of such thing. So his second education began.

Trunks couldn't help himself.

It is late, Captain, 10:34 PM ship time. Due to your recent expression of fatigue, it is advisable that you proceed to your sleeping area. The computer advised him monotonously. Trunks found a slight bit of humor in how many big words it just used to say, basically, Go to bed.

I guess you're right. GNight, computer. Keep those CD's here; I'll look at them again tomorrow. Trunks gave his final instructions.

Would you like to send a log back to Earth? The computer asked.

Skip it, Trunks waved the suggestion away, there's really nothing worth logging.

Alright. Good-night, Captain.

2:54 AM ship time

* Boom! *

* Shakow! *

* BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! *

OW! Trunks sat up too quickly and smacked his head on the sloping ceiling. Computer! Report! He commanded. 

Several alarms were going off at once. We have entered the space above a planet in the Dekko solar system and a battle is raging around us. Escape is highly recommended.

No fudge! Trunks rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed at the obvious conclusion.

A direct route is impossible. Recommended course of action: a quarter orbital rotation around the planet and escape. This lowers our chance of being shot at. The computer stated calmly.

By how much? Trunks asked skeptically.

Two percent. The computer stated plainly.

A sweat drop rolled down the side of Trunks's head as he fought to keep his balance from the pointlessness of it all. Uh, yeah. Do that. I'll meet you at the control center. Trunks hopped around, dressing in his favorite outfit: gray sweat pants, a tight black muscle shirt, and his Capsule Corp. jeans jacket. As a second thought, he capsulated his sword and secured it on his belt. He didn't want it to bounce around and slash anything if the ship experienced too much turbulence.

On his way to the command center, an unexpected jolt rocked the ship and sent Trunks into a wall.

Computer! What just happened? He asked forcefully.

We are under attack. One of the other ships has turned its fire on us. The computer replied monotonously.

Cripes, it looks like the universe still doesn't appreciate peace. Computer! Activate the shields. Close all internal airlocks! Let's get out of here!

Alright, Captain.

Trunks arrived in the command center milliseconds later and assumed his role from there. He took to manual piloting and maneuvered skillfully around the larger fire which the ship's shields couldn't block while trying to disable the weapons on the other ships without killing anybody. Years of terror had taught him the value of every single life. Unfortunately, the other pilots far outmatched Trunks in skill, considering the latter had only been a pilot for a little less than a month.

In the end, Warning. The ship has taken excessive damage and a crash course with the planet is imminent. Warning! The left docking bay has been totally destroyed, landing gear is disabled, engines at 20% and falling. Warning-

Great. This just makes my day! Trunks growled sarcastically, bracing for impact and hoping he could save at least some of the ship from its death struggle with the planet's hard crust, but things didn't look good

Back on Earth, everyone was sleeping peacefully when an alarm suddenly blared, knocking the residents out of their beds and onto the floor.

What? What is it? What's going on? Andy asked as he stood up, hastily pulling jeans over his boxers and hopping out the door on one leg.

Bulma gasped as she walked out into the hall in her robe, seeing the flashing red lights. she mouthed quietly as she ran down the hall toward the tracking machine that had hummed along in the background for so long while she and Trunks's three friends went about their daily lives, glancing at it only once in a while.

What's going on? Mike asked, walking down the hall.

Why are the alarms going off? Tim asked, opening his bedroom door in Mike's face. Mike hit it and fell backwards, holding his nose.

Andy hopped past the two, still struggling with his pants.

Moments later, Tim and Mike reached the doorway to the room Bulma now occupied. She was frozen, shock still, and as the three men looked over her shoulder and at the screen, they saw why.

What he saw shocked him.

The blinking white light that was Trunks's ship was no longer blinking. It was a red dot surrounded by lettering. That lettering said

Position of last transmission. Signal not found.

Bulma was shocked. Nothing, nothing could have disrupted the signal. The transmitter's container was strong enough so that not even Trunks could break it. If something was powerful enough to disrupt the signal

Then it must have been powerful enough to kill Trunks too

To be continued

Oh no! What has become of our lavender haired hero? You'll have to find out in the next exciting enstalment of "DBZ: HYHB"! 


	6. The Local Yokels

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Episode 6 - The Local Yokels

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written _by me_. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the future topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. 

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A/N: Didn't that title just catch you? I mean, come ON! Who can resist a title like that, especially in such a serious story? Don't worry; things are going to be much more fun after a while, we just need to get through a pretty hairy part of the story. Well, at least I think it's pretty hairy. And Trunks's hair isn't pretty, it's handsome! And never, EVER call him "shrimp". Eh… You'll find out in this episode…

Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...

""The whole world needs ladders. Without ladders, you can't get high." – A.J.

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Trunks arose slowly after the crash. He had saved most of the ship including the frame, main computer, most of the engine system, a large portion of the gravity chamber, and all of the storage area, but it wouldn't be able to fly again for a while.

"Owww…" He rubbed a sore spot on the side of his head. He had miscalculated how much energy it would take to keep the ship from crashing and ended up being driven into the dirt. It was only by blasting his way through the ground that he had gotten out. "Time to assess the damage…" he mumbled to himself.

It was bad, very bad. The training center and engines were still in tact and functioning more or less and the cargo area was just great (everything had been secured anyway), but the side of the ship had taken a direct hit and the living area now resembled a wheel of Swiss cheese with a large, charred bite taken out of it. There must have been an explosion. Trunks flew in through one of the large holes and arrived moments later in the frayed, sparking, dim, flickering command center.

"Computer, damage report." He ordered.

"I am sorry, Captain, but the main line past the living area has been severely damaged. I can not provide a reading." The computer replied calmly.

"Awww fudge." Trunks crossed his arms. He looked silly like that; he was the strongest warrior his planet knew of and he was yet to utter a cuss word… "Stand by, computer. I'm going to gather some essential capsules and check this planet out."

"Alright, Captain."

Trunks gathered a few rations of food, toiletries, and a change of clothing, then returned to the bridge and prepared the ship to be capsulated. Once that was done and the crash site was cleaned up, Trunks secured the capsule box to his belt and considered taking out his sword. He didn't want to appear threatening to any natives, but didn't want to be attacked either. If this place was known at all in the galaxy, however, word of an exceptional fighter would spread like wildfire. In the end, he left the sword in its capsule and flew above the canopy to get a better view.

The planet was composed of a large, seemingly deciduous forest that stretched as far as he could see in all directions. He could sense that it was full of animal life, though sparser than his own Earth. He could also sense a large collection of kis to his left side at a long distance and noticed that several were quite powerful. It was probably a large city.

"Well, the sooner I can get the parts to fix the ship, the sooner I can get out of here." Trunks thought as he flew off in that direction.

Trunks loved every second he flew over the alien landscape, feeling the wind in his hair and executing lazy loops in the air. He vented more energy and flew faster and down into the trees, dodging and weaving at a maddening pace. "Wahoo!" he yelled happily in excitement. With this much ki being vented at once, a tree would snap in half and fall over if Trunks was even barely not fast enough to dodge it, but his many years of training had provided him with reflexes fine-tuned enough so that no tree was harmed.

After a while, he noticed that he was quickly approaching the city. He dropped his speed and tried to mask his ki while flying. The basic fact that he was in the air prevented him from masking it completely, but he was able to appear non-threatening to any beings this planet might harbor.

Trunks quickly few downtown and landed in an alleyway, then masked his ki almost totally. It was surprising to him how similar the architecture in this area was to Earth's late 20th century inner city slums.

Despite lack of physical or sensory evidence, Trunks contracted an eerie feeling that he was being watched. Looking around quickly, he discovered nothing and returned to his plans.

He would need a job, definitely. The parts he needed and the amount of them were probably going to cost a pretty penny.

Trunks walked out of the dank alleyway and onto a main walkway, instantly plunging himself into a vast assortment of aliens all in a hurry to get somewhere.

"Out of the way, runt!" one particularly tall one growled as he shoved Trunks aside. Due to his unguarded state at the time, Trunks was thrown back a few feet… Right into on-coming traffic!

A squeal of air brakes, an alien shriek, and Trunks seemed to disappear. Actually he had used a super-fast movement technique to get himself out of the way and back into the crowd. No people even stopped to look, being too immersed in their own business to care. There was a flood of cuss words and various alien babblings in the area Trunks had just caused a stir in. An air car tried to get untangled from the reigns of a gigantic alien animal. It looked like an elephant with a very long neck, long tail, and large dinosaur-like head. After a few moments, traffic was running smoothly again and the thick stream of people ushered Trunks roughly along.

The only thing that seemed odd to Trunks was the fact that the tall alien spoke English. He shrugged it off. Most of the alien visitors to Chikyu spoke his language anyway. It really shouldn't have come to such a surprise to him. He just followed the current of the crowd as they traveled along the side of the noisy, busy street, cringing every once in a while as an alarm screeched or a horn blared. 

Eventually, he came upon an area where the pedestrian traffic thinned out a bit, so Trunks gained more breathing room. The young man was mildly claustrophobic due to his Saiyan genes, so this came as a relief.

Trunks still felt as though he was being followed, but not as urgently as before. "Now, where to go…" he wondered out loud.

Far too immersed in his plans, he failed to noticed he had walked too close to a suspicious group of loitering aliens until a particularly rough one stepped aggressively in his way, causing Trunks to stop abruptly and look up… and up… and up. The guy had to be at least three times Trunks's height!

"Well, well. What do we have here?" the scaly, horned, deep crimson, lanky, bipedal alien asked sarcastically in a low, gruff voice.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I must be going. I'm new around here and I'm looking for a job-" Trunks began, but was cut off by a shorter, purple, lumpy alien. "Damn right, he must be new. No one messes with the Silverarm gang, ain't that right, Schrecker?" he asked the large, deep crimson alien from before.

"Right, Lee! Let's show him who's boss!"

There were about ten large aliens in the group that Trunks could see and a few he knew must be hidden behind them.

"I'm terribly sorry if I have offended you in any way; I am not used to the customs here. If you would kindly excuse me, I must be going now." Trunks turned to leave, but found his way blocked by an extremely large, tall, robust alien with a mean scowl. The alien smirked. "Excuse me sir." Trunks insisted.

"Oh, you're excused." He replied sarcastically. The alien, obviously the leader of this little group punched Trunks in the face and knocked him into the wall of the run-down stone building behind him. He made a nice Trunks-shaped dent.

It wasn't like Trunks was no match for the gigantic lummox. He had just decided not to let onto his real strength this early on. That and he didn't want the whole group to be on him at once.

The aliens laughed and jeered. "Hey!" one yelled out. "The ocean called! They're running out of shrimp!"

"Shrimp?" Trunks thought. That was it. No one but no one called him "shrimp" and got away with it.

But he still didn't want to blow his cover, so he came up with a compromise.

"Hey! Little man! You gonna sit there and cry to your mommy or come here and fight back?" The leader jeered.

"Gladly." Trunks mumbled, his father's famous smirk widening over his face. "If it's a fight you want, I must warn you that I'm pretty good where I come from."

"Humph! Must be a peaceful place, shrimp! Kick in his purple head, Riigo!" another alien jeered.

"Better not make it a one hit knockout or I'll be the talk of the town… Yeah, this guy's ki is one of the highest I can sense." Trunks thought.

"Bring it on, Violet!" the tall alien laughed haughtily and swung another punch, which Trunks dodged gracefully by jumping up and out of the way.

While the larger alien searched for Trunks along the ground, the young man brought a relatively careful pile driver down on the back of Riigo's neck. The blow made the giant stumble, but that was it.

The lummox laughed. "Wow, you actually hit me! Not many fighters can do that, and you made me stumble too!" he stood up and laughed heartily. "You'd be a fun one to spar with sometime, how about joining the gang?"

"Wahoo! Riigo never asks anyone to join the gang like that, shrimp!" a short green alien guffawed, excited.

"Yeah, mate! You'd better accept! Join, or face the consequences!" a medium-sized red skinned alien with long, fuzzy white hair told him in a thick, somewhat Australian accent.

Trunks gulped. He didn't want to join, but refusing would put him in an even worse position. Sure, he could probably defeat the entire group without breaking a sweat, but who knew how many of these Silverarms there are, or how strong they are?

Trunks laughed weakly and put a hand behind his head. "Where do I sign up?"

The entire group cheered.

"MONKEY!" Riigo yelled condescendingly into the crowd. "Get over here now!"

To be continued… 

Heh heh... I'm going to introduce a new character next time... Gee, isn't that obvious? Well, I hope you enjoyed this one... Feedback is always welcome... **hint hint**


	7. Tussney and Kahler

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Episode 7 - Tussney and Kahler

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written _by me_. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the future topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. 

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A/N: Wow! Episode 7 already! I never thought I'd have the ambition to get this far! Wahoo!

Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...

""I got lost in thought once… It was uncharted territory." – Unknown

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An eight-foot-tall, seemingly human man walked slowly out of the crowd of miss-matched aliens, hunched over and looking around fearfully at the rowdy group. Noticing his posture, Trunks thought he might be somewhat of a punching bag or even a slave for them. His hair was frightfully untidy, long, jet back, and sticking out all over, though some futile attempt to comb it back looked like it had been attempted.

Eyeing the new character up, Trunks took note of his very strong, muscular, and dense build, though one feature really caught his eye. The young man had a tail! Brown and fuzzy, the two-foot-long appendage sought refuge between its owner's legs. He was a Saiyan! …But how was that possible? Planet Vegeta had been destroyed more than 70 years ago!

"You called, sir?" the young man asked, keeping his eyes to the floor as he addressed Riigo.

"Look at me when you speak, you dumb ape!" the ornery alien spat as he gave the young Saiyan a glancing blow to the side of his head, knocking him to the floor and stunning him momentarily.

Once he shook off the blow, he stood up and made eye contact with his superior. "Yes sir. What is it that you need?" he asked tentatively, but not without a note of contempt in his voice. His pride, whatever shred was left of it, wouldn't let him completely bend to anyone's will, especially so contemptuous a person as Riigo.

"Monkey, take the new kid here and show him the town. Be at HQ by 18:00 hours sharp or no dinner! And don't you dare try running off again; you remember what happens!" Riigo yelled crossly.

"Yes sir. C'mon, new guy." He motioned for Trunks to follow him. "It's lunch time and I'm hungry."

Trunks followed the young Saiyan back in the direction he had come from and into a busy marketplace. The taller boy purchased an assortment of strange items Trunks guessed was food before snatching Trunks somewhat roughly by the arm and flying them to a more secluded spot. Trunks wasn't happy about the treatment he was receiving and had to fiercely curb the reflex to whir around and punch the guy in the face. In the end, he decided it would be better for him to just dangle down by his arm rather than fight his way out of the situation.

The Saiyan landed, released Trunks, and sat down to eat his food. Trunks took out a small capsule, clicked the top, and set it down. With a loud "poof", a suitable meal appeared in front of him. Both men finished their meals at roughly the same time.

"Ok, shrimp. What was that and how did you make food come out of it?" the taller man asked.

"I see you mustn't be familiar with Capsule technologies... Well, it's one of my little toys, and I don't think I'd be able to explain how it works. I don't understand half of it myself." Trunks replied, unsure why he trusted this stranger enough to tell him. After all, he was a gang member and a Saiyan, and the lavender-haired man had heard stories about how evil most Saiyans were before Vegetasei (the home world of the Saiyans) was blown up. "Ok, my turn. Who are you, and what is this Silverarm gang?"

"One thing at a time. My name's Tussney." The man told Trunks.

"You're a Saiyan?" Trunks asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Of course. We didn't all die when Frieza blew up the planet. My parents were sent away to conquer another planet as infants. Hey, what's your name?" Tussney questioned him.

"Uh..." Trunks thought hard, not wanting to disclose his real name. "I'm Kahler." He quickly replied, deciding on the name his father would have given him had his mother not insisted on "Trunks".

Tussney's eyes widened quickly. "What? That's a Saiyan name!"

Trunks thought fast. "Oh, it is?" he said, trying to act clueless. Tussney seemed to settle down slightly. "It's a common name where I come from. It means, uh, purple." He lied. Though he was a terrible liar, that statement adequately fooled Tussney.

Tussney nodded. "Alright, new guy. I guess I'll show you around then. It doesn't seem like you're from around here." 

Trunks nodded and laughed nervously. Tussney had no idea. They walked out of the alley together, Tussney explaining some of the history of the galaxy to the point he understood it and Trunks soaking it up.

"...And then some Saiyan defeated Frieza. I hear he let the monster live the first time, wanted to give him a second chance apparently, thought he'd change. What a dumb move!"

"Yeah." Trunks half-agreed meekly, remembering his battle with Frieza in the alternate future. He decided to test this young Saiyan's knowledge. "So, who was that Saiyan?"

"I think I heard from Pa what his original name was Kakkarot. He was one of the infants sent off the planet because his infant power level was too low. He got sent to some nowhere planet called Earth, got a new name there from the natives too. Go-... Go- something, I think it was..." Tussney told Trunks, trying to remember the name.

"Goku..." Trunks mumbled quietly without thinking. Unfortunately, he momentarily forgot about the excellent hearing all Saiyans possess.

"Yeah, that's it." Tussney narrowed his gaze at Trunks. "Say, Kahler, why are you so interested in Saiyans anyway?" They had reached a sparsely trafficked area when Tussney stopped Trunks dead in his tracks with that question.

Trunks decided he could be somewhat truthful. "My trainer was a half-Saiyan named Gohan. My mother was a close friend with his dad before he died."

"A trainer, you say? Stronger than you?" Tussney asked.

"Of course, at least he was my trainer before he died as well." Trunks replied, looking away as they began to walk again.

Tussney hummed in thought. "That's strange. Usually Saiyan hybrids are deformed and pathetically weak, if they survive at all."

"Gohan looked alright to me." Trunks assured his new friend.

"I guess. I mean, your species looks pretty similar to us Saiyans..." Tussney put it to thought, concentrating hard on the effort. "Wait, your planet had friendly contact with the Saiyans? How is that possible?"

"I don't really know. Gohan's dad was sort of the champion of my home world; he always used to protect us from anything that threatened the planet." Trunks replied, shrugging.

"Hmmm... Well, he could have been sent away from Vegetasei because his power level was too low or something and then forgot his mission to conquer the planet somehow. My parents hit the crash site too hard and it scrambled their programming. Almost everyone I've met so far who's come in major contact with the Saiyans hates us for some kind of damage done to their race. Even though I wasn't even alive yet when Saiyans were still conquering worlds, everyone still hates me. You're the first guy I've been able to talk to without getting a nasty glare or a weapon pulled on me. I think we share a common understanding."

"I guess..." Trunks told him. Tussney had no idea...

That night...

They made it in time for the meal, but it was a sad disappointment to Trunks. They stood in line outside HQ to receive a small bowl of something lumpy and putrid-looking, though it didn't taste all that bad once Tussney convinced Trunks to eat it. Unfortunately, it was barely enough to dull the edge of his hunger.

Trunks and Tussney became fast friends, and Trunks even rooms with the taller Saiyan.

HQ was a large, interstellar freighter. As Trunks found out, the Silverarm gang was an intergalactic alliance of some of the best criminals in the universe, as well as some of the strongest fighters.

Riigo wasn't even the strongest person on the ship, though he was an officer: the one in charge of "inducting" new members. The captain himself, well... let's just say that he was a bit too proud of his power level. He spent a lot of his time walking stiffly past the crewmembers, power at near maximum and sticking his nose as high into the air as he could reach. However, without powering up and merely walking around at normal, Trunks was only about four times as strong as that macho idiot.

Trunks's first encounter with him was enough for him to decide that he seriously disliked the man. The moderately tall, physically unimpressive captain had walked past their table as Trunks and Tussney were finishing their meal and talking. Tussney was immediately silenced as the captain's shadow passed over him. Unfortunately, Trunks didn't know any better.

"What?" Trunks asked, noticing his friend's paling face and fearful expression.

"Zo, zis iz ze newe keed. Ah jou note?" the captain asked sarcastically in his heavy French accent.

Trunks turned around. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't catch what you said. Would you mind repeating?"

The captain's smug expression fell into a frown as his pale white hair fell about his pale blue skinned face. "Jou insolente leelle vorm! Vy, I jould svash jou into vorm pazte! No vone azkz Captaine Lasiehr to repeate 'ihmzelfe!"

"...Sorry?" Trunks repeated.

Tussney's eyes widened. "Kahler... Just shut up..." he warned the boy tersely.

Trunks, sensing his friend's uneasiness, cocked an eyebrow and turned to him. "What? What is it, Tussney?"

"Kahler... That's Captain Lasiehr... No one talks back to him unless they want to see their insides on the wrong side of their body..." Tussney told the boy, his voice wavering terribly.

Trunks's eyes widened. "Oh! Sorry, terribly sorry, sir. I didn't know who you were..."

"ZILENCE!" Lasiehr ordered, looking the unflinching boy in the eyes. "Normally, jou vould be zix feet undere by nowe, but I ame veeling generouse zis daye. I ville let jou live." He said contemptuously, an evil glint in his eye. "Nexte time, jou ville note be zo lucky..." With that, he turned and walked off, his cape billowing behind him.

Tussney sighed with relief and slumped down onto the table.

Trunks cocked an eyebrow, scanning the captain's ki. "What a blow-hard. He's not very strong. Who does he think he is?" he mumbled out loud.

Tussney sighed. "You're an idiot, Kahler."

A while later, Trunks and Tussney settled down into their beds in the far-too-cramped equivalent to a bathroom stall they were assigned for a room and had to share. Trunks, because he was smaller, shorter, and lighter, got the top bunk. The two began to talk while waiting for lights-out. Trunks wasn't very tired; it was only 1:00 PM on his watch, but ship time was 21:30 hours.

"So, Tussney. What's your story? How did a Saiyan like you get mixed up with these bozos?" Trunks asked him.

"Well, they landed on the planet my folks were on and killed 'em, just attacked. I was about 7 standard years old at the time; I'm 17 now. They're names, my folks' names, were Bermuccu and Chycari. They were actually pretty weak, but I was really strong at the time. Lasiehr brought me aboard as his "pet monkey". Basically, I'm the crew's punching bag. I have been ever since."

"That sucks." Trunks commented.

"Yeah, but you should know how we Saiyans are. Every blow makes us stronger. They're just fueling the flame. Well, that's provided they don't kill me first."

"Yeah..." Trunks mumbled, immersed in his own thoughts. He knew first hand how that goes. After healing, a Saiyan's body becomes stronger in proportion to the damage done because the body tries to shield itself from more damage of that kind. He remembered well the regular beatings the androids gave him.

"So, what kind of alien are you?" Tussney asked, surprising Trunks and bringing him back to reality. "I've never seen one like you before, and I've seen a lot of different kinds of aliens. Purple hair? That's not common in the galaxy, that is, unless you dyed it."

"Ha ha. Very funny." Trunks rolled his eyes. Oh, shoot. He couldn't tell Tussney he was part Saiyan, but he still didn't trust these gang members enough to disclose that he was from Earth either. After all, if Trunks ever got away from them, they might attack his home world to get back at him. "Well, uh..." he stalled.

"Lights out!" the PA system blared. Trunks sighed in relief.

"Saved by the bell.," he whispered to himself. Unfortunately, Tussney heard.

"Alright, Kahler. You don't have to tell, there's ways I can find out. I need something to keep me busy anyway. Days around here are pretty boring." Tussney told him, laughing at his apprehensiveness.

Trunks laughed weakly as Tussney turned out the lights. He wasn't used to having someone with hearing that rivaled his around. He would have to stop mumbling his thoughts...

"I have to say though, it's nice to find someone who's comfortable around Saiyans." Tussney told him sincerely.

Trunks smiled to himself. If only Tussney knew why...

To be continued...

****Dragon ball ending theme begins to play****

Mirai Trunks: Hey there! It's my turn to do the wrap up. I'm really glad I made a friend like Tussney. Despite countless slip-ups on my part, he still hasn't figured out my little secret. What a lucky break! I just hope I'll be able to keep it up! By the way, Tussney told me that we have planet leave for another day yet! All right!

**Clips of the inner city are shown, various people throwing things at Tussney and calling him nasty things**

Mirai Trunks: It looks like what he said about people hating him wasn't an exaggeration. I'd sure hate to be a full-Saiyan. It doesn't look like he's all too happy about extended planet leave.

**Clip of a mysterious cloaked figure pouncing on Trunks and knocking him to the ground**

Mirai Trunks: And who's this mysterious person? Is this the answer to my uneasy feeling of being followed? What could this person possibly want?

**Cloaked figure lowers her hood, reveling the face of an extremely attractive young woman, she says, "I know who you are, Trunks."**

Mirai Trunks: Woah! How does she know who I am? Will she blow my cover? One thing is for sure; I'm going to have problems of my own next time. Don't forget to tune in, next time: Episode Eight, You Can't Run Forever! It's definitely a headache for me!

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STORY BY:   
Silent Willow

TYPING BY:   
Silent Willow

HTML CODING BY:   
Silent Willow

HOSTING BY:   
Fanfiction.net   
Freeservers.com

ACTORS:   
Trunks Briefs: Trunks Briefs   
Tussney: 17-year-old Radditz   
Lasiehr: Morten   
Riigo: Fat Bastard and a lot of makeup   
Various Aliens: Random people off the street

SPECIAL THANKS TO:   
The number 777 (for Trunks777, my absolute favorite web group!)   
Zamba Sabertooth (for her excellent reviews via MSN Messanger!)   
Riptor Velochi (Because he's my #1 dragon buddy!)   
Mountain Dew   
My cousin Tyler (For watching a video so I can have time to type this!)   
Final Fantasy 9 (For being an absolutely awesome game)   
Fanfiction.net (For being a cool site)

And finally, readers like you!


	8. You Can't Run Forever!

__

Episode 8 - You Can't Run Forever!

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written _by me_. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. 

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A/N: And now a real treat: Episode 8! Wow, I'm on a roll! ;)

Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...

"The future lies before you like paths of pure white snow. Be careful how you tread it for every step will show." - Unknown

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Trunks yawned and stretched as he awoke the next day, then sat up only to bump his head on the low ceiling. He believed for a moment that he was back on the New Hope, but a quick look around his cramped quarters convinced him otherwise. Tussney was already dressed and rummaging through his items in their tiny storage closet. As Trunks's vision cleared, the tiny white pill-like thing that Tussney was holding and squinting at came into view.

Trunks jumped quickly from his bunk and snatched Capsule 208S from Tussney's larger fingers.

"That's not for you, Tuss." Trunks told him quickly, shaking his head.

"Ease up, Kahler! What d'ya got in there anyway?" He asked, rolling his eyes at Trunks's over protectiveness and laughing. He squinted over Trunks's shoulder and tried to read the label with obvious difficulty. "2... 20, no 28..."

"Here, I can read it better..." Trunks glanced at the label. "Capsule 208S. Nothing overly dangerous in this one, but I wouldn't want to see you try to take out my ship or something in this bathroom stall of ours." Trunks let out a laugh of his own. "You could crush us both!"

Tussney nodded, still laughing. After a while, they both stopped. "So, what's in there anyway?"

"Senzus, a kind of revitalizing bean that grows back on my home planet. They're for emergencies only; I only have a few. They're to be used only if I'm near death or something, but how often does that happen?" Trunks laughed at the last part as if it was a joke.

Tussney looked confused for a moment, and then became slightly more serious. "Kahler, I have to warn you, things on this ship aren't exactly a piece of cake. You've nearly gotten yourself killed a few times already, once with Riigo, once with Lasiehr. You'd better watch yourself or you're going to need every one of those miracle beans. No one is going to baby-sit you, not me, not any of the crew. I have my own problems."

Trunks stopped laughing and cleared his throat nervously.

Tussney sighed. "Come on, newbie. We still have one day of planet leave. Let's make the most of it."

After they completed their various early morning tasks and snacked on some lumpy, greenish alien version of oatmeal, Trunks and Tussney set out once again to see the sights.

Along the way, Tussney fared the worse of the two as some people threw trash at him, others threw punches, and everyone gave him a dirty look or three. Of course, Tussney couldn't fight back or the authorities would be on him in an instant whether he started it or not.

A little alien child kicked him in the shin and her mother ushered her away, not without giving Tussney a nasty, 3-eyed glare. Tussney was tired of it. "Come on, Kahler." He growled irritably and once more took the shorter man by the wrist as he flew out of the city and into the forest.

"Geez. You'd think after so many years people wouldn't go punching guys like me in the face all the time..." he commented as he rubbed a particularly sore spot on his cheek. "Just be glad you're not a Saiyan, Kahler."

"Yeah. Right." Trunks laughed meekly.

Suddenly, both young men felt a ki rise sharply to Trunks's right and before he knew it...

"Oof!" The completely off guard half-Saiyan was pinned to the ground. "Hey!" he yelled at the hooded figure that held him down. "Get off!"

"You're not getting away from me this time!" the surprisingly feminine voice yelled back from beneath the shroud of her hood. 

"What? You must have me confused with someone else. Now if you'll excuse me..." he pushed her back, sat up, then lifted her by her wrists and set her standing while he arose also. "I was speaking with my friend here before we were interrupted."

The woman seemed to eye Tussney up from beneath her tan, partially frayed, canvas cloak and hood. "Another Saiyan? Humph. You must have planned this out." She lowered her hood to reveal the face of a stunningly beautiful navy-blue haired woman and locked her piercingly cool matching navy blue eyes onto Trunks's. "I know who you are, Trunks."

Trunks's face flushed stark white.

Seeming not to notice Trunks, Tussney interrupted them. "Whoa, his name's Kahler for one, and for two, what do you mean by 'another Saiyan'?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Trunks gulped as she smirked. "I am Tobaga of the New Saiyan Alliance!" She threw off her cloak and there she stood, slightly shorter than Trunks. She was dressed in a slightly less than modest midnight blue fighting outfit with golden yellow trim as a two-foot-long navy blue tail curled around her waist.

"Wait! You can't be a Saiyan! Your coloring is all wrong!" Trunks concluded.

She leaned in to Trunks's ear and whispered so Tussney couldn't hear. "That doesn't stop you, now does it, little demi-Saiyan?" Trunks's face discovered a brighter shade of white that moment as his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. She laughed and Trunks winced.

So the girl knew, but how...? Trunks sighed. "If you've got something to discuss with me, fine. I don't know what your problem is, girl, but we can discuss it elsewhere." Trunks meant for her to leave, but she seemed to misunderstand.

"A private conversation it is, then. We'll go that way." She stressed the word 'private' as she indicated a direction away from the city. "Come on." With that, she ran off into the foliage.

Trunks gave Tussney a helpless look. "I'll set her straight, I guess."

Tussney was confused. "...Yeah... You go do that, Kahler..."

Trunks ran off into the bushes after the strange woman, dodging through various alien trees until he caught up with her, leaning against one of the trees.

"Alright." Trunks addressed her. "First things first. Why are you stalking me? What do you want?"

She smirked and laughed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Simple. The NSA wants you. They tracked an enormous power level to that nowhere planet, Earth, and to you. That was about 30 years ago and we didn't have enough Saiyans back then to send one after you. Now we do. Little, demi-Saiyan, I know a lot about you, you specifically, but the NSA still doesn't know everything." Her eyes began to sparkle like a little kid at Christmas time. "Who is your father? Did you actually meet the great Kakkarot? I have so many questions!"

"Whoa, slow down." Trunks stifled her as he prepared himself for an outright lie. "First of all, I'm Kahler, not Trunks. Second, I'm no Saiyan. My father, my real species, that's personal information. I'm just an ordinary person, Tobaga. Leave it at that."

Tobaga studied his face for a few moments while Trunks silently prayed that she would buy it. She smirked. His face fell. "You're a terrible liar, Trunks. Not only that, but I followed you all the way here. You took off in that ship before I could get to you the first time, and again on that strange planet. Then you evaded me again by faking that crash, and again by running into that gang. I'm not letting you evade me this time!"

Trunks massaged his temples as he sighed. This girl was going to be a bit of a problem. "Look, I don't know who you have me confused with, but my name is Kahler. I'm 17 years old, not 47, and this is my last day of planet leave. I'd like to get back to enjoying it."

She looked annoyed. "Shut up, Trunks. I know about that doo-hickey that disguised you as a 17-year-old, and I'd recognize your bad taste in clothing anywhere." Tobaga smirked. "Plus, who on any other planet runs around with a 'Capsule Corp' jacket?"

Trunks winced. The jacket was a dead giveaway. "Ok, Trunks. Give in now. You might still be able to strike a deal..." he mentally coached himself. "Alright, fine. You have me there. What do you want me for anyway?"

"I knew I'd get you!" She jumped excitedly and giggled like a little kid on a pony ride.

Trunks rolled his eyes. "This had better be good," he thought.

Tobaga seemed to calm down after a bit and cleared her throat importantly. "Trunks, your people need you."

Trunks cocked an eyebrow. "My what? What for?"

"The NSA is trying to gather as many elite Saiyan warriors together as possible so we can re-take our empire's former glory!" She told him as if it was the most important, great, and noble quest in the universe.

Trunks rolled his eyes irritably. He knew otherwise. "I know what Saiyans did before Vegetasei was destroyed, I've heard the stories and the hatred for them still lingers throughout the universe. You need me to fight your battles, to destroy innocent lives and seek your revenge. You need me as a mercenary." Trunks read inward for her, stating it calmly and without flinching. It was, after all, the truth.

Tobaga seemed slightly uncomfortable. "I guess eventually..."

Trunks snorted. "I'm not that way. If your 'New Saiyan Alliance' knows enough about me to send someone after me, you should know why."

Tobaga looked at him questioningly. "Why?"

Trunks lifted one corner of his mouth, appalled that they would dare ask him for something like this without bothering to learn why he became the way he is. "I didn't come here to explain myself." He turned to walk away.

Tobaga caught his arm and he looked back at her. "Really, why?"

Trunks sighed. "You really want to know, or is this some trick?"

Tobaga shook her head. "No trick."

Trunks lowered his eyes and sat down against a tree. She sat down next to him. "I grew up in fear, constantly hiding from an impossible terror brought upon my world, one not even my father could stop. They attacked without mercy, without pattern. The only thing they seemed programmed for was destruction. Now you, the NSA asks me to unleash that same terror upon the children of other worlds." His voice remained unwavering as he brought the horrible truth of his race's past and intended future to light.

"I guess..."

"I didn't spend my entire life fighting that kind of horror just to bring it to other worlds, Tobaga." He spoke softly, but soon began to lose control, the memories once again fresh in his mind. "The universe, none of you understands the value of peace, of life! Sure, many of you grew up in a world ruled only by chaos, never knowing where it would strike next, but how many of you remember? How many of you actually understand the true value of life?"

"Um..." the she-Saiyan bit her lower lip, suddenly sorry that she had taken to her race's view so quickly and without thought.

Trunks's eyes threatened to tear and his fists were clenched. His teenage emotions were getting the better of him. "None of your souls have been so ravaged by was that you see even this little peace as a blessing! You take it for granted, and then selfishly pursue more power. You feed your empire's gluttony on the children of every world you touch! Do you think for a moment that I don't understand what it's like to be on the receiving end of that... that reign of terror? What do you think was my inspiration to gain so much power? For personal satisfaction? No! I protect worlds; I don't cause the death and destruction this universe could sorely do without! I don't kill mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, ...friends..." He suddenly stopped. Trunks spoke one word, "Go... han..." He spoke it slowly, licking each syllable. "I don't kill best friends."

Though the memory stuck at his heart's core like the sharpest blade, the tears his eyes had banked weren't allowed to fall: a product of his Saiyan pride. Curse it! It was pride that caused the deaths of all his mother's friends and his father, all of whom Trunks had been too young to remember. Trunks sat silently against the tree, seemingly calm and still, though within, his emotions boiled and seethed like an angry sea.

Tobaga was stunned. She had only joined her fellow Saiyans because she had nowhere else to go. She found family and protection in them, an escape from the condescending, jeering, angry glares the received from the entire galaxy due to her demi-Saiyan heritage. It wasn't it was her choice to be half Saiyan; her parents made that decision.

She grew up in desirable conditions: two loving parents, a nice space ship/home, a place to train, plenty of food and necessities...

Until they were attacked.

They had landed on some generic planet and her father had to stay on the ship again while her mother took care of all the shopping for their necessities and the engineering/constructing business they ran. Tobaga didn't understand about how the Saiyans were hated and why she needed to remain ship-board, soaking up artificial light instead of an actual sun's rays, breathing a pre-processed oxygen mix instead of "real" air. She snuck out of the ship to explore while her father was distracted with various tedious tasks.

At first, exploring was great. There were bright lights, many people, and enticing sounds and smells, but she soon found trouble, or more precisely, trouble found her.

A small, rowdy, inner city gang ambushed her, poking fun of her off-colored Saiyan tail and pushing her into an impossible fight. Oblivious to how people could be so mean, she foolishly divulged personal information about her heritage and her ship's location.

Her parents were both on the ship at the time, frantically searching for her. The pathetically weak Saiyan and his wife (whose species had never been mentioned to Tobaga) were gone in a flash, a single blast that ended their lives.

The gang members were about to hand that same fate to Tobaga when a lone Saiyan saved her at the last moment. His ebony locks were like a thick mane encircling his head and cascading down his back. His eyes blazed with fierce determination. Though his heart was scarred by years of persecution, none of the like could ever lay a finger on his soul. (A.N.: ...Or a toe, or an arm, or a leg, or a hand, or a stalked eyeball, or a tentacle... I'll shut up now.) Tobaga immediately knew she could trust this man as he carried her off to his ship and brought her to the home she has kept for these past 7 years, and she is 17 currently. Who is he? Tahoto, Tobaga's adoptive father.

Tobaga spoke softly as she relayed her story to her new friend. When she completed the narrative, both youths sat in silence for a while before Tobaga spoke again. "I can't abandon Tahoto, he means too much to me, but you've really opened my eyes, Trunks." She laughed half-heartedly. "The universe can be a pretty cruel place, can't it?"

Trunks nodded. "I hoped you'd understand. I don't exactly want to go head to head with my own race, but I won't stand for anything I don't believe in. I'm looking for worlds that need saving, not to be the one causing that need."

"Yeah..." Tobaga made a quick, perhaps rash decision. "Hey, Trunks? I'm going to join you. I agree with you, no one should cause so much terror and destruction, and I don't care if it's my own race I'm turning against. I won't stand for it either. Even if we can only make a dent in the universe's corruption, it's better than just sitting around and letting it grow. Will you let me?"

Trunks laughed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course." He gave her a sincere smile. She smiled back. "Any help is gladly accepted, Tobaga."

He stood up and shook her hand. "Call me Toby." Tobaga requested.

Trunks nodded and released her hand. "Just remember to call me Kahler, especially around Tussney." He offered her a hand to help her up, but she refused it.

"I can get up myself!" she snorted. Trunks stifled a laugh. Yes, she was a true Saiyan, all right.

"We'd better get back to Tussney. He might get worried if we're gone too long." Trunks concluded.

"Yeah." Toby sighed, and then stopped Trunks before he could run off. "Do you think you could train me to your power level? I mean, it's possible for me, right?" she asked, conveying her doubt to him.

"Of course," was Trunks's reply. He was surprised she would doubt herself so. "Anyone could get to my level, they just need the inspiration."

"Ok, good." She smiled and darted off through the foliage, satisfied with Trunks's response.

"I just hope her help will be enough." Trunks finished his earlier statement mentally as he turned and took off after her.

To be continued...

**Dragon ball ending theme begins to play**

Tussney: Hey, I get to do the wrap up this time! Well, this week's episode really confused me, but hopefully, next week's will be much easier for me to grasp...

**Various clips of Tussney looking confused**

Tussney: ...Or not...

**Clip of Trunks buying a newspaper from the newspaper stand, then reading the paper**

Tussney: Well, it looks like we'll be catching up on current events!

**Clip of Trunks and his feeble attempt at cussing, Tussney laughing at him, then the Silverarm raiding ship taking off and Tussney being thrown into the wall**

Tussney: Heh... I guess I should pay more attention... Well, don't miss the next exciting episode of DBZ: HYHB: Episode 9, Back to Space! Kahler is undoubtedly an enigma... Hey, did I say that right?

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STORY BY:  
Silent Willow

Mirai Trunks: Yes, you pronounced the script perfectly, Tuss.

TYPING BY:  
Silent Willow

Tussney: I did? Cool! And you said I couldn't read!

HTML CODING BY:  
Silent Willow

Mirai Trunks: I never said that... I just said that I could read better.

HOSTING BY:  
Fanfiction.net  
Freeservers.com  
And now... MediaMiner.org!

Tussney: No, but you implied it! You think I'm stupid, don't you? Just another Saiyan brute that can't do anything except eat, sleep, and fight!

ACTORS:  
Trunks Briefs: Trunks Briefs  
Tussney: 17-year-old Radditz  
Lasiehr: Morten  
Riigo: Fat Bastard and a lot of makeup  
Various Aliens: Random people off the street  
Now joining the cast... Tobaga: ROSELYNE MARROT and lessons on how not to have a French accent when playing a character that doesn't have a French accent...

Mirai Trunks: No, I don't...

SPECIAL THANKS TO:  
The number 2 (Well, I think it's a funny number...)  
Zamba Sabertooth (For our "Bishi-watch" sessions. Don't ask.)  
Ember (For being the first person to review this story!)  
Riptor Velochi (Because he's my #1 dragon buddy!)  
Mountain Dew  
Kool-Aid Jammers  
My cousin Tyler (For being a good little boy while I type this)  
My Uncle Karl (For letting me use his laptop)  
MediaMiner.org (Because it's way better than FanFiction.net!)  
NOT to Fanfiction.net (Because it went down and got me very angry!)

Tussney: **Not listening to him** Well, I'll show you! I'll figure out that little secret of yours! Just you watch!

And finally, readers like you!

Mirai Trunks: ...Whatever, Tussney...


	9. Back to Space

Episode 9 - Back to Space

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. If I had enough money to be Akira Toriyama, I'd just buy the Internet. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written by me. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. 

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A/N: Well, I've arrived home from my vacation in Colorado. Sorry about not updating quite as much as I originally planned. I decided to start work on "The Many Tails of Willow". Well, that and having 5 hours of Internet time per day was quite appealing... ;) Remember to review after you read. If you review, you get a cookie and a spot on the Special Thanks column of the next episode! Be truthful in your reviews. If you think my stories really suck, don't tell me it's the most awesome thing you've ever read, and vice versa. ;) Also, there's a difference between flames and constructive criticism. If you didn't like it, don't just say, "YOUR STORIES SUCK!!! I'VE READ BETTER ON THE WEIGHT STAMP OF A BOWLING BALL!!!" Not only do I cringe at the 100% usage of capital letters, but it's also not telling me what I can do to make it better. Therefore, it will never get better.

And don't be afraid to nit-pick. If you see a word I spelled wrong or a piece of grammar that could be worded better, however slightly, tell me about it, please! I don't catch everything that spell check misses! I'm not perfect! ...Yes, I know I have shattered your faith in the world with that statement, but it's true. I'm not. Thank you for your time.

Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...

"Off we go, into the wild blue yonder...." - Orville, from "The Rescuers"

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"Did you set her straight?" were the first words out of Tussney's mouth as the other two youths arrived back. What followed was an impromptu rambling by Trunks and Toby, and when neither seemed to agree on what happened, Tussney waved them away with an exasperated, "Don't even bother."

They followed Tobaga as she traveled back to her landing site in the back woods.

Tobaga sighed as she laid eyes on her ship. "I hate having to lug this thing around like that. I'm just glad no one vandalized it this time; normally I come back to find it all but destroyed and I need to call for a new one. Tahoto's getting really mad at me for that."

Trunks's face lit up, remembering a spare type D capsule that his mother had given him. He fingered the milky white capsule box at his side before retrieving capsule 1A and holding it out in front of him, studying its gentle curve and the slight dip where one end of the blue label overlapped the other. Breaking out of his momentary trance an instant later, he warned Tobaga and Tussney to stand back and clicked the top of the capsule, then threw it a fair distance away. With a deafeningly loud explosion and a gargantuan plume of smoke, the New Hope towered above the canopy in all its broken glory. "Wait here." He told them, then released a small amount of ki and floated in through the gigantic hole in the living area. His first stop was the main storage area. 

Wires that would have supplied energy to the lighting system hung down in all of their multi-colored fury, hissing and crackling angrily, like Rice Krispies on steroids. Straining to see in the pitch-blackness of the un-lit room, Trunks sighed and formed a small ball of yellow ki in his hand, then walked forward. The inventory log capsule hadn't been secured and had been tossed somewhere within the storage room in the crash, but Trunks thought he vaguely remembered where the mid-sized spare capsule was stored. The dim light flickered as he searched for the capsule among the various towering, eerily illuminated shelves covered with millions of secured capsules, vaguely resembling the scaly hide of some gigantic, medieval, reptilian monster. He looked to and fro as he walked down the long hallways, occasionally floating up toward the top, thinking he had spotted it, but each time being disappointed as the wrong label flashed before his eyes with the introduction of ki-light. Soon enough, however, he discovered the blank labeled spare capsule lying in the midst of capsules containing various spare parts. Trunks already knew that by some terrible twist of fate, the essential parts he needed to repair the New Hope weren't among them.

Thankfully, he had gathered up the rare metal that coated the ship, (it all lay cluttered in a corner somewhere) but he would need to fix the wiring, the structural damage, the damage to the command center's connections, and much more.

Trunks decided not to worry about that yet as he took the capsule and floated down from the top of the storage shelf, the soft "tmp" of his landing echoing eerily off the metal walls and down the corridor leading out of the monstrous storage room. 

"I'd better send a log to Earth." Trunks mumbled out loud to himself just to fill the depressingly silent space. "This is definitely worth logging." Trunks tossed the capsule up and caught it again, then took off flying down the corridors and to the command center, where the computer greeted him in its usual monotonous feminine tone.

"Good day, Captain." It said plainly.

"Computer, record this log and relay it to Earth." He commanded.

"I'm sorry, Captain. The logging system is beyond the severed portion of the sensors. I cannot record a log and communications with the home planet are impossible. Energy supply to the tracking device have been severed, data has a 98.567% chance of having been completely deleted, which includes all archived coordinates, voyage path-..."

"That is enough, Computer." Trunks interrupted it, quite irritated at this latest development. To be truthful, he had grown to like the almost daily routine of sending logs to Earth. Now that he would be denied such a comfort, he became quite irritable. That is, until one thought caused him to gasp. "Computer! ...Energy supply to the tracking device has been severed?"

"That is correct, captain. No signal can be sent to the Earth-based receiver. Earth's coordinates have also been erased from memory. If you wish to re-enter them manually-..."

"I don't know them." He stated quickly, suddenly sorry he hadn't paid more attention to his mother's pre-flight lectures. He sighed. "Great. Now Mom probably thinks I'm dead. Dang it, I probably gave her a heart attack or something... Arg! I'm such an idiot..." Trunks sighed again. "Computer, prepare the ship for capsulation." He ordered.

"Yes, Captain." The computer replied in its now irritatingly monotonous voice.

Trunks clutched the capsule in his hand and walked down the corridor and toward the blasted living area. Once he reached the edge of the hole, he jumped down to the grass and walked underneath the tilted ship to lift a hidden access panel and turn the lever that would store the ship back into it's capsule. He pulled it into position, then quickly got out of the way as the ship returned to its capsule with another loud explosion and large cloud of smoke. He vaguely remembered that he would have to re-charge the capsule if the emergency generators ran out of energy, but didn't worry about it. 

As the smoke cleared, Trunks walked over to pick up the capsule and studied it in his hand for a few moments before Tussney's large hand came down roughly upon his shoulder. "All this time you could fly? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked angrily.

Trunks placed the larger capsule back in his box and laughed as he replied, "Well, you seemed to be keen on dragging me along... And it's harder to mask my ki while flying anyway."

Tussney seemed to be roughly satisfied, though there was still a look of thoughtful confusion on the purebred Saiyan's face.

Trunks sighed and turned his attention to Toby and her small ship. It was spherical, had one circular window in front and one padded seat inside. It was of the classic Saiyan design, small and fast, but maddeningly cramped for longer journeys. It was a sturdy, small, and nearly undetectable little ship designed for speed and stealth. Trunks noticed that Toby's ship had quite an extended command console, probably used for tracking purposes and other such things.

Trunks quickly instructed Toby on how to use the capsule and showed her how to place her ship inside because it wasn't already capsule compatible, and also demonstrated how to take it out. She stored it herself and then pocketed the capsule.

Their objective completed, the three new friends took to the air and flew toward the city at a leisurely pace.

"So, how do you plan on getting me into the gang to come along with you guys?" Toby asked.

"Not yet." Trunks replied firmly. "You're not traveling with the gang."

"What!?" She quickly flew in front of him and stopped abruptly. "What do you mean I'm 'not traveling with the gang'?"

Trunks sighed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Think about it. If Tussney is treated as badly as he is, a female Saiyan would be torn apart. You can travel in your ship, maybe wait for us at the next port."

"How will I know where that is?" Toby huffed, somewhat irked at Trunks's statement, even though she knew that it was true.

Trunks put it to thought for a few moments. "I might be able to create an encoded beacon so you can track us, I helped work on a similar project a while ago, but it will take me about an hour to build it and code it if I have the right tools, possibly 3 hours without tools and help from someone who has an easier time working with small, fragile parts."

"Speak standard?" Tussney commented.

Trunks was now confused too. "Standard? Don't you mean English?" he asked.

"What's 'English'?" Tussney asked, the confused look on his face even more pronounced now.

Trunks sighed and waved it away. "Never mind. Anyway..." He returned his attention to Toby and picked a capsule from the small white box. "I could use some of the pieces in this capsule to do it, but I'm going to need help and tools..." he held up the small capsule and stared at it as if expecting an answer to suddenly appear somewhere within the gentle, sloping curves and simple appearance.

Toby curled her tail around her waist and joined in the thinking, even though she didn't know what she was supposed to be thinking about. Tussney did too, but soon tired of it.

"Can we go eat now? I'm hungry and all this thinking is hurting my head..." he suggested.

A growl from both demi-Saiyans' stomachs provided Tussney with his answer.

"Let's go eat." Trunks concluded. They all resumed flying toward the city.

After downing sufficient food and earning stares from a motley group of alien eyes, Trunks went to work on the beacon with help from Toby. He installed the receiver in Toby's ship and placed the actual beacon behind the auxiliary battery in his watch, suddenly glad that his mother had tweaked it to run off his ki primarily. Tussney informed him that they would be searched upon returning to HQ, so Trunks retrieved the few personal items he would need and put the rest in his ship, including his sword. They bid Toby farewell and the blue-haired demi-Saiyan went her own way.

"So, what do you want to do now?" Trunks asked the taller man.

"Why don't we get the Galactic Update? I'd like to see what's going on in the universe." Tussney suggested.

"Galactic Update?" Trunks asked.

"Boy, you must be new to this corner of the universe! It's the main newspaper for the republic." Tussney laughed at his apparent clueless ness.

"Oh." was Trunks's reply.

They began to walk toward the market place, but Tussney stopped Trunks before they went very far and placed a few odd coins in his hand. "Here, you pay for it. See that guy over there?" Tussney pointed to a short, rotund, hairless alien standing behind the counter of a market stall covered in many flat electronic displays and several different colors of oddly shaped and sized disks. "His brat spit on me last time I got the paper from him. He over charged me to, but the police won't believe a Saiyan and I can't bother with the authorities anyway."

Trunks nodded. "Alright."

"Don't just get today's disk either. Riigo snapped my last display. I'll need a new one too. Just try not to pick out an overly expensive one. I don't get paid much." Tussney informed him.

Trunks nodded again and walked over to the stand, then began to look around. A little kid that resembled a smaller, thinner, larger-eyed version of the shopkeeper was running around, chasing some sort of small robot that had grasped its own ankles and was rolling around in the dirt. Trunks couldn't help but smile at the cute scene. He had always admired children for their innocence.

He turned to the stand once more and studied the various languages of displays. A few of them he thought could have been languages from his own planet while others were printed in symbols resembling hieroglyphics and still others seemed to be little more than disconnected scribble. He found a display that he recognized as his own language and lifted it from the pile, then slid it over the counter. "How much for this one in standard?" he asked the keeper.

"One hundred seventy credits." The owner replied in a thick, frog-like tone, his several extra chins jiggling as he moved a mouth that stretched around half of his face. Trunks put the money Tussney had given him on the counter and the man glared at him. "Do you expect me to accept that? You're forty credits short!"

Trunks nodded. "Do you have any cheaper displays?" he asked.

"No! And this is the cheapest they come! And don't expect me to give you a break, I have to eat too." He replied irritably.

Trunks nodded solemnly and gathered up the coins, then turned to return to Tussney, nearly stepping on the young child as he did so.

Trunks crossed the dusty street with relative ease after looking both ways and spying a large, long necked, elephant-like beast pulling a large cart of who-knew-what.

He was waving to Tussney when a guttural yell from back across the street caught his attention. He whirled around to see the newspaperman climbing clumsily over his counter, yelling toward something in the street...

The little kid! He was chasing his little robot out in the path of that gigantic animal!

As the little kid screamed, noticing that he was in danger, the animal reared and flailed its front legs.

Trunks's eyebrows furrowed. He stood straight up and clenched his fists, taking on the familiar look of a warrior. He kicked off and literally flew over to the young boy, wrapping his arms around the child's shoulders with his back to the animal as its feet came streaming down toward them. Trunks didn't move.

Tussney witnessed the whole thing. "Kahler!" he yelled, reaching one hand out toward him and wishing silently that the idiot would get out of the way in time, even though it looked impossible.

The animal's feet hit the ground, kicking up opaque dust and debris as both Tussney and the young boy's father yelled.

His attention directed toward the site of the incident, the salesman didn't notice as Trunks and the frogman's son suddenly appeared behind him.

"Daddy!" the child called for the man in a surprisingly normal little kid's voice as he ran up to the worried man.

The shopkeeper twirled around and smiled genuinely as the little boy jumped into his arms and hugged him. "Roydo! Don't you ever worry me like that again!" he scolded the boy through joyful tears.

"Sorry Daddy." The little boy apologized, almost crying, not because of the previous incident, but fearing that his father was angry with him.

"Sshhh... It's alright, I'm not angry." He held the boy out at arm's length. "I'm just happy you're safe."

The little boy grew excited. "Daddy! Daddy! That man over there, he was like, zoom! And wow!" The young boy was squirming, trying to turn around to catch a glimpse of his lavender haired savior.

Trunks stood exactly where he had ended up, watching as the two family members had their reunion. As the older man approached him while carrying his son on one shoulder, a feeling of uneasiness twisted itself around in Trunks's stomach. He just wasn't used to being thanked for the things he did.

The frogman held out one gigantic hand and shook Trunks's entire arm. "Thank you, kind sir! Thank you for saving my son!" he thanked the boy gratefully.

He let go of Trunks's arm and the demi-Saiyan nodded. "It was no problem, sir." His eyes befell the awestruck ones of the little child whose life he had just saved. He merely said to the taller man, "I can't allow a child to be harmed."

The stall owner nodded.

"I was wondering if you knew of any small tasks I could complete so that I could earn the money needed to purchase that newspaper-..." Trunks asked, but was interrupted.

The man produced the very display that Trunks wanted to purchase. "Take it, no charge. You saved my boy, and that's enough for me."

Trunks took the item tentatively, thinking it almost too sudden that the man had offered him anything, but he shrugged it off. He wasn't used to receiving any sort of outside thanks for the things he did anyway.

Ryodo's eyes twinkled as Trunks smiled and thanked his father. "Do that zoom thing again!" he begged the taller boy.

Trunks smiled and patted the boy's head. "One per customer." He told Ryodo and winked, then turned to cross the street again for himself.

"Zoom thing?" Ryodo's father asked him.

"Yeah! He just landed right by me and then zoom!..."

"Kahler, you're an idiot." Tussney told the young man once he arrived by his side.

Trunks dropped the odd coins into his waiting hand and produced the display. "Well, I got this for free."

Tussney sighed. "Whatever. Here, gimme that." Tussney quickly turned his gaze to the display after swiping it irritably from Trunks's grasp. He smirked. "Maybe I should let you shop for me more often. Maybe one of these times you'll get some sense beat through that thick skull of yours."

Trunks rolled his eyes as Tussney scrolled down the document and began to read slowly and with obvious difficulty.

"Here, let me." Trunks offered. He knew for a fact that pure Saiyans had a much less developed left side of their brains and so less talent for reading and word recognition, but Trunks's half human heritage gave him a much more balanced thinking pattern and thus he was able to read better. Tussney grudgingly handed the display over to him. "Alright... There's been a robbery of the First Galactic Republican bank on Ker..."

"Kerachyk, it's a planet in the Gaza solar system on the edge of the frontier. I'm surprised the Republic bothered putting a bank out there with how difficult it's been for them to keep control." Tussney told the shorter man. "Turn to section three. Let's see how the Felion-Coldfinger war is going."

"Felion? Coldfinger?" Trunks asked.

Tussney rolled his eyes. "Geez, new kid! Have you been in some secluded corner of the universe all this time? The Felions are a race of cat warriors, about half as strong as the average Saiyan."

"...And that would be...?"

"A standard power level of about 50,000 right now. I've heard rumors of several Saiyans other than the great Kakkarot that have reached the multiple millions, on the same planet too, but those aren't factored in."

Trunks smiled at the irony. He was one of those Saiyans, and currently the last and the best of them too. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn't be able to transform into a Super Saiyan or any higher levels thereof and still keep his identity secret. For what Tussney had told him before, every little kid in the galaxy grew up with legends of the great Kakkarot and the terrible first Super Saiyan. Tussney was still explaining Trunks's previous question, so the latter tuned back in.

"...And the Coldfingers are the Silverarm's greatest rivals. We're going to the Felion's planet next anyway to snipe at the Coldfingers, eventually take over the Felions for ourselves. Coldfingers may be bad, but Silverarms are ruthless." Tussney told him.

"I overheard that you've tried to escape before; is that why?" Trunks asked.

Tussney sighed. "Yeah. I can't stand this place! At the least, I want my freedom, not lifting boxes and scrubbing walls and getting beat up all day. I even know where I'd go."

"Where?"

"The New Saiyan Alliance, but just to live there. Conquering planets isn't my style."

"Mine either." Trunks sighed, his cover slipping from his mind for a moment.

"Huh?" Tussney asked, giving him a confused look as what his comrade had said failed to completely add up in his mind.

"Uh... I mean, I wouldn't go conquering planets if I had a say in it." Trunks attempted to save himself. "Not like I'd really ever have to, but I'm just saying..."

"You're really strange, Kahler. You know that?" Tussney informed the young man. He really knew how to state the obvious...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They arrived back at HQ a few minutes before 18:00 hours to avoid the crowd of other space gangsters trying to get back at the last possible minute. The first thing they went through was a search. The warty, obese, 8-tentacled being that searched Trunks was confused about his capsule box, but Trunks just told him that they contained his medicine. To prove his point, he took out the one containing Tylenol and a bottle of lemon juice and honey. (1) Fortunately, that satisfied the exhausted alien sufficiently and both young men passed.

Sterilization was next. The gangsters were otherwise uncaring when it came to personal hygiene, but they didn't want any terrestrial diseases finding their way on board and causing an epidemic. 

They were handed oxygen masks as they walked into the small, whitewashed room and instructed to put them on immediately.

"Don't trust these masks completely, Kahler. They aren't 100% effective. Hold your breath." Tussney advised the newbie.

Trunks shrugged and humored Tussney as an ashen gray gas began to seep through the walls.

"Close your eyes unless you want them to burn for a week." Tussney told him. Trunks, not feeling like finding out what that would feel like, decided to humor him on this as well.

The instant the gray gas made contact with his skin, Trunks felt every ounce of moisture being lifted from it and subconsciously cringed back. His skin began to feel like a sun-baked Sahara river's bottom as he occasionally squirmed, wishing it was over. He lifted one chapped hand to his normally silky soft hair and discovered it clumpy and crusty, then recoiled back and gasped as he felt even the moisture beneath his clothing being absorbed, then immediately wished he hadn't. His throat felt like it was on fire and tried to make him cough, but he curbed it and silently choked.

Thankfully, a moment later, sprinklers turned on and soaked the gas away, then drenched the two also. Trunks licked his lips as he opened his eyes to see Tussney taking off his oxygen mask and washing his face with the water. Trunks removed his mask also and ran his fingers through his now soaking lavender hair.

"Wash up, this is the only shower you're going to be getting for a long time." Tussney warned him as he began to scrub his hair.

Trunks only gathered a handful of water and splashed his face before the water shut off and the airlock to the rest of the ship opened. Trunks followed the taller man through and held his arms out for protection as he shook the water off like a dog before glaring at the tiny, green, lanky alien that was handing out towels which looked to be far too previously used to be of any use to them and far too big for the tiny alien to be holding. The tiny alien shrieked and cowered back. Trunks lifted an eyebrow at Tussney.

"That's Wazle; he's a little spy. If you don't intimidate him, he'll follow you around and report everything you do to Lasiehr." He growled at the small alien and it went scampering away. "Plus he's the one that spoiled my escape attempt. I've got what you would call a 'special grudge' against him."

Trunks shrugged his dripping shoulders and eyed the rotten-looking, raunchy towels.

"Don't use them. They probably haven't been sterilized since their last use. You're better off shaking off the water. Here, I'll teach you how-..." Tussney offered while looking away, but stopped abruptly upon returning his gaze to Trunks.

He was already shaking off the water.

Tussney laughed. "Looks like you have things under control."

Trunks laughed too.

They traversed the low corridors to their room, Tussney having to duck under every support beam, but Trunks not having a problem. Both of them laughed at this as they reached the oval, steel door to their room and Tussney ducked in. 

They wanted to get their shared room fixed up before liftoff. Trunks had no problem. He hung the handle of his tiny capsule box on the one hook he could find in their tiny shared closet, moving only minimal amounts of Tussney's junk to do so. Tussney shoved the thin electronic display they got earlier in on the side, then closed the closet door loosely to work around it. Trunks taped his favorite picture to the ceiling above his bunk, the one with the entire Z gang in it and himself as a baby. Trunks laughed out loud as his eyes fell upon his father's less-than-cooperative figure.

"What's so funny?" Tussney asked, wanting in on the private joke.

"Nothing." Trunks assured him, still smiling. "I'm done, how about you?"

"I'll take a minute or two yet, I want to organize some of my junk. Why don't you stand outside the room? It's a bit cramped in here with the two of us, even though you're such a shrimp." Tussney joked.

"Ha ha. Very funny." Trunks rolled his eyes as he stepped out and shut the door.

Tussney sorted through his junk rather quickly, but curiosity got the better of him as he spied the picture Trunks had taped to the ceiling. As carefully as he could, the 8-foot-tall Saiyan climbed up to look at it.

It was a get-together of some sort as far as he could tell, with family and friends alike, it seemed. There was no way the three-eyed alien in the picture could be related to anyone else there. Sure enough, there was the infantile lavender-haired wonder boy in the arms of a blue-haired woman, presumably his mother. Around them stood many people, including a rarely-seen Namek, a 3-eyed alien which he vaguely recognized from the flashback section of the Galactic Update as the "legendary" bounty hunter Tien, a few of the species he recognized as "human" but couldn't quite remember what planet they were supposed to be from, and several Saiyans of various sizes and dispositions. There was one young one, approximately 7 years younger than Tussney himself, that he figured had probably been Trunks's half-Saiyan trainer, one overly happy one that he believed to be around age 28, and one short, particularly foul-tempered one.

Tussney took a closer look at the last, shorter Saiyan. Trunks's mother was holding him in place and his face seemed oddly familiar, something Tussney's father had shown him long ago in a history lesson...

Tussney peered closer, trying to remember...

Trunks knocked on the door. "Hey, Tussney! Are you almost done in there?"

Distracted momentarily by the newbie, Tussney lost his grip and fell backward, striking his head on the door of their closet. "Shit!" he yelled and rubbed the back of his head.

Trunks walked in quickly, only to find him on the floor. "Tussney? Are you alright?"

Tussney rolled his eyes and replied sarcastically, "Oh, just peachy! I only hit my head on a steel door after falling four feet, but other than that, it's a bright, shining, fucking glorious day!"

Trunks laughed nervously. "Heh, darn. Don't you hate it when that happens?"

Tussney slowly got up and smirked. "Hah, you don't swear, do you?"

Trunks gave him a serious look, trying to look intimidating. He failed badly. "No, I don't. Do you have a problem with that?"

Tussney stood up straight, easily doubling Trunks's height. "You're little and a softie! These guys are going to eat you alive!" he continued chuckling.

"I'd like to see them try." Trunks mumbled irritably.

"Whatever, tough guy." Tussney kept laughing.

"Liftoff in one minute." A voice came over the PA.

"I'd get situated in your bed if I were you." Trunks advised his comrade.

"Here, let me help you! Ass, shit, fuck, damn..."

"Liftoff in thirty seconds."

"Tussney, I'm serious." Trunks urged him.

"Repeat after me! Whore, fuck, shit, jackass..."

"Liftoff in 10 seconds. 9... 8..."

"Tussney!"

"...6... 5..."

"Ha, ha, ha!"

"...3... 2..."

"Tussney!"

"Liftoff."

The force of the acceleration knocked Tussney over and caused him to smash into the wall. Trunks stayed exactly where he was, though he had to exert a small amount of ki to do so.

A few seconds later, they left the planet's gravitational field and were released into the weightlessness of space.

"Ow..." Tussney rubbed his head where it hit the wall, then sighed. "The liftoff gets me every time..."

Trunks had his arms and legs crossed and was floating in the air, eyes closed and not amused.

"Say, how'd you stay put like that? That had to be at least a 10 g liftoff!"

"10 g?" Trunks repeated in a thoroughly unimpressed tone, but soon realized his mistake. "Oh, 10 g! Yeah, sorry, I, erm, thought you said 1 g..." Trunks stuttered.

Tussney sighed. "Whatever, Kahler. They'll be turning on the gravity soon, and then it's time for your first day of work." Tussney informed him.

"Turning on the gravity?" Trunks repeated.

"Yeah." Tussney replied as he floated lazily past the confused teen. "Weightlessness can take a toll on the muscle tone, so we have artificial gravity. It's 0.1 g in most areas of the ship; I don't really understand why they do that. Most planets are like Vegetasei was and have 1 g, but it's just a few where the residents can't handle more than 0.1 g on a normal daily basis..."

"What does he mean? I thought Vegetasei was 10 g... Oh. Different scale..." Trunks thought, almost hitting himself for the obviousness of the conclusion.

Just then, the gravity switched on and Tussney fell to the floor with an "Oof!" He groaned and stood up, then smoothed out his pants, not failing to notice that Trunks had landed on his feet with ease. Tussney pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he walked over to the steel door and grasped the smooth, cool metallic handle. "Well, let's get going, Kahler."

"Right behind you..." Trunks sighed and mumbled dejectedly, not exactly looking forward to lending his strength to the gang's cause, but escape would be suicidal at this point...

To be continued...

**Dragon ball ending theme begins to play**

Mirai Trunks: My turn to do the wrap-up.

**Various clips of Mirai and Tussney scrubbing walls, and... Scrubbing waste disposal areas, and cleaning other things up. Oh, and some gang members taunting him and getting him really POed, but other than that... He's cleaning stuff.**

Mirai Trunks: Uhg. Janitorial work. Well, be sure to tune in next time, same time, and same place. DBZ: HYHB: Episode 10, Work, Work, and Space Bullies! I'm sure SW has something special lined up for this one...

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STORY BY:  
Silent Willow

TYPING BY:  
Silent Willow

HTML CODING BY:  
Silent Willow

HOSTING BY:  
Fanfiction.net  
Freeservers.com  
And now... MediaMiner.org!

ACTORS:  
Trunks Briefs: Trunks Briefs  
Tussney: 17-year-old Radditz  
Lasiehr: Morten  
Riigo: Fat Bastard and a lot of makeup  
Tobaga: ROSELYNE MARROT and lessons on how not to have a French accent when playing a character that doesn't have a French accent...  
Various Aliens: Random people off the street

SPECIAL THANKS TO:  
The number 24 (24 hours in a day, 24 cans in a big pack of Mountain Dew. Coincidence?)  
Zamba (Because I say so.)  
Ember (For being the first person to review this story!)  
Rya, AKA: Riptor Velochi (Um... Because I say so?)  
Mountain Dew (Without which, I wouldn't be able to survive.)  
Kool-Aid Jammers  
Vanilla Coke (Reward your curiosity! Mine needed all the rewarding it could get...)  
My Uncle Karl (For letting me use his laptop while we drove for two days straight from Denver to eastern Wisconsin, and not getting annoyed with me!)  
TheChinese_Chinkster (Because he's really cool. What? Do I need another reason?)  
MediaMiner.org Forums (Because I love the RP section!)

And finally, readers like you!

(1) Lemon juice and honey is like a tranquilizer shot to Saiyans. Not even Bulma has figured out why yet, but the unique combination is potent enough to knock out even the strongest Saiyan in an instant, even when only a few drops are ingested. Trunks uses it to get to sleep at times when he normally cannot and he always keeps some on hand in case of emergencies.

And one thing I forgot... Ember and Storm_410 each get a cookie! *^_^* I hope you like chocolate chip! :D


	10. Work, Work, and Space Bullies!

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Episode 10 - Work, Work, and Space Bullies!

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" at the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. If I had enough money to be Akira Toriyama, I'd just buy the Internet. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written by me. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. 

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A/N: Because it seems that many more people like this story than any other one of mine, I guess I'll be updating it more too. In case you haven't noticed, my scanner was completely fried during the last thunderstorm, along with almost every other piece of hardware and software on my computer. Power surge protectors help when the shock comes in through the power line, but they do little good when it comes through your Internet connection... Thankfully, I backed up all my files before going to Colorado, which means that I can now continue to bring you the quality entertainment you've all been waiting for, just not any fan art for a while. A word of warning: I don't know what my schedule is going to be like for the rest of October, although my parents have "subtly" hinted that things are going to get much more hectic than they have already been so far. I'm preparing to be shipped off to the hospital in with wide assortment of not-quite-fatal injuries, so if I suddenly disappear for a while, you'll have a good idea why.

Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...

"Beware the fury of a patient man." - John Dryden 

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Being a "newbie", Trunks was automatically assigned to cleaning duty, which conveniently enough was Tussney's job also.

Cleaning duty was long and tiring work. The tools that Trunks and Tussney were given to work with were covered in rust and grime from years of usage. Tussney sought a form of relief from the task in talking to Trunks, though Trunks found keeping the conversation away from himself quite a chore. After a long several hours of scrubbing walls and Trunks avoiding any type of in-depth conversation, Tussney ran out of small talk, which was a relief to his lavender locked companion.

"It's a good thing you got this job, Kahler." Tussney began while scrubbing a stubborn spot of who-knows-what on the rust-spotted wall. "I was getting tired of having no one to talk to all day long."

"Yeah, good thing." Trunks repeated, his concentration divided between those words and a lump of greasy green goo stuck to the floor.

An awkward silence stretched ominously between them.

"So, heard any good gossip?" Tussney asked, attempting to fill the void.

"Tussney, you've been asking me that same question every five minutes for the past hour." Trunks informed the taller man, smirking in amusement.

"Oh yeah..." Tussney replied laughing, self-conscious, his cheeks now glowing ruby red.

Trunks genuinely smiled as he continued his monotonous labor, spraying the olive tinted glob again with solvent, then scrubbing it to no effect. "Hey, Tuss. Can you get this?" He asked. "The solvent doesn't seem to be working."

Tussney leaned his head in the newbie's direction and chuckled when he saw what the boy was struggling with. "Oh, that spot? That's been there for ages. I don't know what it is, and I'm not all that eager to find out." He informed the shorter man. "Don't waste your time with it."

Trunks nodded and slid his operation over.

For the next few minutes, the constant squeaks and scratches of sponges and steel wool on the walls and floor were the only sounds to comfort either man's ears in the long, pewter gray corridors. That is, until a harsh blaring horn rang out over the P A system. Immediately, a low rumble echoed down the lengthy intersecting hallways. Tussney quickly stood up and motioned for Trunks to do the same. Unsure of what was going on, Trunks obliged, only to see what the matter was. From the south of the hallway came the sound of a stampede of hundreds of mismatched aliens all of them heading straight for Tussney and Trunks. Trunks ducked quickly into the alcove preceding one of the many oval doors lining the hallway; just in time to avoid being trampled. Tussney took a similar course of action on his side of the walkway, though with a fluid grace that comes only from prior knowledge.

The crowd passed quickly, leaving only several knee-high aliens scampering along behind. Trunks avoided stepping on one of them as he exited his sanctuary. He inquired of Tussney what the heck was going on.

"It's dinner time." Tussney replied nonchalantly, gathering up his bucket and tools, which he had taken with him into the safety of the alcove.

Trunks looked a the clutter of his tools and the contents of his bucket, which were strewn along the hallway. Some of them were horribly disfigured or completely flattened. He let out a disappointed sigh.

Tussney laughed and tilted his head in the direction of the ruined tools. "C'mon, I'll help you out this time. Next time, move faster."

Trunks nodded and smiled gratefully, then joined Tussney in cleaning up the mess.

Minutes later, the two men entered the crowded mess hall. Leading Trunks over to the cafeteria bar (which Trunks decided resembled a buffet of multi-colored manure), Tussney grabbed a plate and shoved one into the shorter man's gut.

The meal options were quite skimpy: a salad of various flavorless greens and other odd colors, some strange bubbling juice that the pair decided to leave where it lay, some roasted meat seasoned with what smelled like stale gym socks, and, thankfully, a tank of water.

Sliding out the end of the line, Tussney made his way swiftly and carefully to the back of the room, dodging flying food, stretched out feet, and slippery spots as he went. Oblivious to the situation at hand, Trunks followed along in his usual mild humor. At last, Tussney set his tray down at the messiest, wobbliest, most broken down, and what must have been the oldest table in the lunchroom. He sunk low into the creaky seat in a vain attempt to escape the jeering glares of his shipmates, who didn't even bother to hide the fact that their nasty comments were about him. As Trunks made way to set his own plate down, Tussney attempted to save the newbie from a fate similar to his.

"Go sit with some other group now, newbie. No one who expects to pass time here without being beaten to within an inch of his life sits with a Saiyan."

Trunks merely shrugged and pulled up a chair. "Their loss. If they don't take to you, I doubt they'd react any better toward me," the shorter boy responded without much thought, then plopped down roughly and began to eat, using the minimal manners he learned while living with his mother on Earth.

Tussney cocked an eyebrow. "Why's that, Kahler?" he asked as Trunks's previous statement refused to cohere with Tussney's however limited thought processes.

Realizing what he had just unknowingly dug himself into, Trunks's eyes and mouth subconsciously went slack in shock, allowing Tussney a full view of the whites of his eyes and the strange food the shorter man was currently chewing on. "…Uh… never mind." Trunks stammered.

Tussney shrugged it off. The newbie was confusing, yes, but then again just about everything seemed to confuse the teenage Saiyan pureblood. Instead of pressing for clarification, Tussney decided to poke at the squirming piece of meat on his plate, trying to conclude if it was still alive or not.

Trunks, meanwhile, had shoved a large chunk in his mouth and attempted to chew it. The rubbery slab produced an irritating, eerie "squeek, squeek" at every chomp, causing the young man's eyes to tear with the pain the noise inflicted upon his ears.

Tussney smirked at the scene; meanwhile, he cut his meat into chunks tiny enough to swallow without chewing, and then downed them one by one.

As they went about their meal, attempting with all their will to ignore the rude jeers directed at them, Tussney's mind began to wander back to that morning.

That picture, what was it again? Some sort of family get together, it was. Something about it struck Tussney as odd, something...

Tussney awoke from his daze as Trunks waved a hand in front of his face. "Hey, Tussney, you alright there? You spaced out on me."

"Huh? What?" Tussney looked down to discover his elbow in the gravy on his plate, which was still nearly full. He glanced over to discover that Trunks was already finished with his meal.

"Are you planning on finishing?" Trunks asked, a sarcastic smirk playing across his lips.

"...Oh... Yeah, I am." With that, Tussney resumed devouring his meal.

Trunks just shrugged and leaned back into the creaky, unstable chair. Shoveling food at a rate that only Saiyans can achieve, Tussney finished in no time. That is, he finished just in time for what followed. Trunks was gently rocking back and forth on the back legs of the rusty chair with his eyes closed, humming a familiar tune to himself as several ominous shadows crept across his face, causing him to open an eye carefully.

Normally, the smirking faces he viewed upside down wouldn't have provoked a reaction from him other than to close his eye and continue humming, but the creaky chair he sat in chose that moment to shudder and snap into pieces, sprawling its former occupant onto the dingy chrome floor.

Looking up just as he finished his meal, Tussney was well-timed to catch the malicious laughter that followed emanating from the deep, raspy throats of the bullies standing over Trunks. The taller boy made to rise from his seat, but was shoved roughly back into it by another being behind him.

The tallest of the little clique tilted his head sarcastically and gestured around in a sweeping motion with one, deep blue, lumpy, and scaly arm. "Look here, a purple baby and a monkey boy having a little heart-to-heart. How sweet." This drew malicious laughter from the remnant of the group.

The hair on the backs of Trunks's and Tussney's necks bristled along with the fur of the taller teen's tail, but whether it was due to disciplined self-control or masked pride and fear, the result was the same. Tussney momentarily peered over the crest of the table to shoot Trunks a "just sit there and take it" look.

"Bet he's a weakling, useless newbie!" another alien jeered toward Trunks, drawing more laughter.

"What a scrawny little shrimp!" another guffawed.

"...Shrimp...?" Trunks's thoughts echoed what had been said. Subconsciously, the lavender-graced teen's ki began to rise. The group of cowardly bullies apparently wasn't skilled in the precise art of ki sense, but Tussney was, and a sharp jolt shot through his mind as Trunks's ki sharply brushed against his own. Trunks had just blasted near to the taller teen's current power maximum, and apparently without even working up a sweat.

A confused look slowly dancing across his face, Tussney began to subconsciously question what they all had gotten themselves into. If that was what happened when the young man's temper flared, what would happen when he truly tried to fight?

Completely oblivious to Trunks's agitation, the men continued to poke fun of him, having evidently found their new favorite target for such actions. Time after time, Trunks was forced to fiercely curb the instinct to fight, the duty to avenge his wounded honor, something that had been burned into his essence while staying with his father in the Room of Spirit and Time in the alternate timeline.

While the alien men were laughing their asses off at their latest not-so-witty comment, Tussney quickly got up, grabbed Trunks by the wrist, and quickly led them both out of the room, pausing only briefly to drop off both of their trays. Once out, Trunks slumped against the wall and sighed his anger away.

He muttered only one word, an airy, "Thanks."

"It's 8:30 PM ship time. We have to clean up after the meal anyway, so let's go sit in the kitchen for a while." Tussney informed the shorter man emotionlessly.

Trunks nodded and followed his friend through a side door into the kitchen, finally resting upon a pair of chairs set out haphazardly near a storage room to the side. The kitchen walls resembled braided snakes as steam-spewing tubes covered them, branching off and out of sight at random intervals. The whole place smelled strongly of alien body odor and exotic spice while the walls reminded him of butter after someone had spilt dark coffee all over it and allowed the result to dry.

The two young men were still quite hungry, but as Tussney quickly pointed out, they would both receive severe punishment by the officers (aka, being beaten to a bloody pulp) if they took any extra food. Trunks had to nearly slap himself from commenting, "I'd like to see them try." It was only Tussney's interruption that saved him from shooting himself in the foot for what seemed to be the millionth time that day.

"Shoot," Tussney continued, suddenly off topic, "I forgot, today's tabby cleaning too!"

"...Tabby?" Trunks asked.

"You know, bathrooms. It has to be done once per week. I forgot all about it! Shit, that'll cost me at least three meals and a 'sparring' session with Riigo..." Tussney groaned.

Trunks sighed. "And I've got years of supplies on my ship too. I really am going to have to get my hands on those parts to fix it."

Tussney laughed, a bitter and hollow sound that sent blaring alarms through Trunks's mind. "And what, escape? Don't even try; the Silverarms are everywhere. Escaping just doesn't work."

Trunks cocked an eyebrow; he expected any reaction but this. "Of course, escape. You didn't expect me to stay here forever, did you?" Trunks asked rhetorically, as if it was obvious.

"Stupid newbie." Tussney labeled him mentally. "It's impossible, it just can't be done. Once you're in this gang, there's only one way out: death."

Trunks rolled his eyes to hide his confusion. He'd come under the impression that nothing was impossible, at least not for a Super Saiyan, but Tussney wasn't to know that. "Whatever. Still, it wouldn't hurt just to get the parts, would it?"

"...No..." Tussney admitted. "Unless you get caught, then it'll hurt like hell."

Trunks smiled, amused at his comrade's mild humor.

The taller man sighed in defeat. "If you can move quickly, it can be done. It won't be all that difficult to set you up in a position to get your parts, but the task itself might be too much for you."

Trunks shrugged off Tussney's doubt and met it with an uncertainty of his own. "I don't get it; how can we 'set this up'?"

Tussney smirked as if it was obvious. "You forget who you're talking to. Just because I have a lot of enemies on this ship doesn't mean that I don't have some that owe me favors. I could get you in as soon as tomorrow."

Trunks grinned to himself. Truly, Tussney was a good friend to have made.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

To be continued...

**Dragon ball ending theme begins to play**

Mirai Trunks: Alright, so this episode wasn't exactly as exciting as I expected, but the good news is that we get to see some action next time!

**Clips of Trunks and Tussney briefly fighting a few aliens that are horribly outmatched**

Mirai Trunks: ...Well, maybe not much, but it's better than nothing, right? Ok... What else happens?

**Short clip of a shadowy reptilian figure**

Mirai Trunks: Woah! Who's that? Well, I guess we'll find out. Tune in next time, same time, same place! DBZ: HYHB: Episode 11, Space Pirate Raid! It's undoubtedly exciting!

Tussey: Hey! How come I never get to do the wrap up!?

Mirai Trunks: I don't know. You want to?

Tussney: YES!

Mirai Trunks: Alright, then go ahead! Next time is all your's!

Tussney: YAY!!! **Dances around in circles**

Mirai Trunks: ...Why me...?

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STORY BY:  
Silent Willow

TYPING BY:  
Silent Willow

HTML CODING BY:  
Silent Willow

And now... BETA READING BY:  
SSJ_Zorella

HOSTING BY:  
Freeservers.com  
MediaMiner.org  
Fanfiction.net... Not for very long if they don't shape up soon...

ACTORS:  
Trunks Briefs: Trunks Briefs  
Tussney: 17-year-old Radditz  
Lasiehr: Morten  
Riigo: Fat Bastard and a lot of makeup  
Tobaga: ROSELYNE MARROT **Cheers**  
Various Aliens: Random people off the street

SPECIAL THANKS TO:  
The letter W (For Gundam W! LOVE THAT SERIES! :D)  
Zamba (Because…)  
Ember (For being the first person to review this story!)  
Rya (...No, really!?)  
Mountain Dew (Without which, I wouldn't be able to survive.)  
Kool-Aid Jammers  
Vanilla Coke (Because it's SOOOOO good!)  
TheChinese_Chinkster (Because he's really cool. What? Do I need another reason?)  
SSJ_Zorella (I FINALLY have a beta reader! YAY!!! ...Um... Guess who?)  
MediaMiner.org Forums (**Sniffle** I love you all... Thank you SO MUCH for all you've done! Without you all, I wouldn't be continuing this story!)

And finally, readers like you!


	11. Space Pirate Raid

Episode 11 - Space Pirate Raid

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" near the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. If I had enough money to be Akira Toriyama, I'd just buy the Internet. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written by me. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader. 

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A/N: Gomen, gomen for the lateness in updating! This was originally supposed to be two separate episodes, but I decided that there wasn't nearly enough action in part one to constitute cutting it off there. Sorry for the short author note, I know everyone was looking forward for another rant, but in order to ship this episode off yet tonight, I'll have to cut this short. ^_^

Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...

"We are a necessary evil." - Aya, Weiss Kreuz  
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The next ship day, Trunks and Tussney were assigned to clean the cargo bay. There had been a lot of activity there lately, and that could be blamed on the fact that the gravity simulator was on the fritz. This area normally had no gravity whatsoever, so the 0-g forklifts were no longer of use since the Simulation Suppresser was hit by a stray 5 ton block. Instead, the strongest non ranking Silverarms were reassigned to the cargo bay to serve as living forklifts. It was also the assigned area of the strongest Slycan on board. Corran, as the young adult Slycan was called, owed Tussney quite a few favors, in fact. They were numerous enough even for him to risk being by Riigo, who oversaw this area.

The young demi-Saiyan caught Corran's eye and nodded, signaling the initiation of their simple, yet hopefully very effective plan. Corran picked up the heaviest thing he could lift and Trunks continued his sweeping operation as usual, moving closer and closer to the lizard-man's path. As planned, Corran began to lose control of the heavy container, and gave a sharp yell, causing Riigo to quickly turn and glare in his direction. The sanguine behemoth didn't care if any one of the workmen was crushed beneath one of the crates; he was only angry that the container might be dented and dirtied as a result of the fool's stupidity. He opened his mouth to yell for the monkey to clean up the mess that he believed would ensue, but quickly lost the words. Corran was no longer stumbling about, and the reason why was holding the crate up from beneath. Corran sighed and nodded a quick thank-you as Trunks helped him re-balance, then both returned to work.

They were the only ones to do so. Riigo's mouth hung agape as the event sunk in. Here was the newbie, and he could throw around the 5-ton crates like nothing! The room full of heavily muscled, mismatched aliens was put to shame by a short, medium-built teenage humanoid, and none of them could believe what they had seen. That is, none but Riigo.

He began to laugh heartily, his tremendous girth shaking in waves with the tremulous sound. Moving over to strong-hearted Trunks, he gave the boy a slap on the back. I new you were strong, newbie! What do you say to me getting you reassigned to the cargo bay, get you off that cleaning job? That kind of work's only fit for a Saiyan! Trunks flinched inwardly, but nodded modestly as well. Riigo laughed again then yelled for Tussney, making Trunks flinch outwardly at the volume of Riigo's thick, deep voice, 

Tussney asked, studying Riigo's face as he spoke.

I want you to take the newbie and Corran and show lilac here the ropes to cargo work. Riigo commanded, then turned to Trunks. What's your name, kid?

He replied unobtrusively. Fortunately, Riigo knew nothing of Saiyan naming or culture.

Kahler, eh? Well, Corran and the monkey are going to show you around. I expect great things from you, boy. Who knows, if you prove yourself enough here, you may just become my new sparring partner. He spoke as if such a proposition was indeed a compliment, and judging by the seething faces around the cargo bay, it surely was.

A shout of, Back to work! sent the other aliens scurrying back to their duties.

The trio immediately began their task, though at quite a more laid-back pace than Riigo might have liked if the three would have been the targets of his attention. They proceeded to quietly discuss and laugh about the previous happenings, as well as off topic novelties, like most discussions seem to turn to. Trunks came to find that Tussney and Corran had already been friends, though in a very loose term of the word, and that he would probably be quickly added to the equation as well. The two taller aliens' separate job assignments and lodging areas kept socialization down to a minimum. As he also discovered, even though Slycans aren't exactly on good terms with much of society, their race doesn't carry the weight of so personal a hatred like Saiyans do. 

Slycans are the ultimate thieves. Their razor sharp claws are helpful in scaling walls and double as formidable weapons, whose leverage is aided by an adult Slycan's average height of 7 feet. Corran himself would rise several inches above Tussney if the Saiyan teen would cut his hair. A Slycan's skin color also supports a chameleon effect, allowing them to change color with their environment and seem to hide perfectly within shadows. Sporting a medium length reptilian tail and harboring elongated mouths lined with razor-sharp teeth, at times their countenance may seem somewhat un-evolved. The rims of their mouths carry heat sensory pores, making up partially for their largely nonexistent skill in sensing ki. Their golden irises sport slit like pupils lie midway between the front and sides of their heads, resulting in excellent peripheral vision and a clear focal point in the front. Their snake-like tongues can taste the air, aiding their highly evolved sense of smell. Though Slycans evolved as predators, they developed an omnivorous diet since contact with other races forced them to become . 

If only these characteristics were taken into consideration, the various peoples of the universe might just be leery of their obvious physical prowess. However, like the Saiyans', theirs was a world of murder and chaos where the strong fed upon the weak and mercy was a concept ill known. That is, it was until the Saiyans, under Frieza, forced them into space. Unlike other, more domesticated species, the Slycans held no grudge against the foot soldiers that invaded their world. The cunning, intelligent Slycans' nature forced them to accept that, had their roles been reversed, they would have eradicated the monkeys just as readily.

All the tales of evil things that go bump in the night which alien children grow up with always include a Slycan somehow attacking, slashing, and devouring some helpless, innocent alien child, which some infamous individuals that had been utterly rejected by political society had been known to do. As excellent pickpockets, they almost never passed up and opportunity to relieve those who didn't need it of a few credits or valuable possessions. Hence, most races loathe Slycans. However, like with most of these generalizations, not all of them are so wicked. Corran was one such example of a strong Slycan with a proverbial good heart. How he wound up mixing with the Silverarms was yet another sad story.

Baby Slycans are born from eggs, never kept by their parents, and left to fend for themselves in their harsh environment from day one. Corran was luckier than most of his race at this beginning, being found, , and raised in a good home with two Kenasans, nearly the last of a dying race of psychic aliens from a planet long since raided by Bardock (Goku's father) and his group. He was given extremely mild psychic awareness by his kind foster parents, along with an education. Unfortunately, the Silverarms raided their small town of refuge and captured Corran (Then in his mid-teens and now in his late twenties). The young Slycan never knew what became of Shana and Kal, nor saw them again.

That's sad. Trunks commented once Corran had told his story.

Yeah, but I can't spend much time really thinking about it; Riigo keeps me pretty busy. Corran agreed. Say, what about you, Kahler?

Yeah, Kahler. You haven't even told me much. Tussney supplemented. 

Trunks had come to trust his new friends as much as he could any stranger he had known for only a few days, and decided he could disclose at least a little information. He began his tale, I was born into a time of peace between one war and the next for my planet's survival. Our group of Special Forces, I guess you'd call them that, were getting together for a picnic when my mom's best friend, the strongest on the team, came down with a deadly heart virus. There was no cure at the time, so in a little while, he passed away. Six months later, two androids attacked and decimated a city near my home. I was less than a year old.

Each of the remaining Z Senshi, as we called them, attacked the androids in hopes to prevent any more destruction, but each warrior fell, including my father. One of them, then a child, escaped and began to train diligently in the hope that one day they might be defeated by his hands. He was my trainer, a half-Saiyan named Gohan. When I was 12, I began to lose hope of ever reclaiming my people's and my freedom. No one ever knew where the androids would attack next. Many people lived each day as if it were their last, as each one was likely to be. I became so desperate that I tried to escape the horror by slashing my own wrists, but Gohan stopped me, them promised to train me to fight. We trained together for about a year and both of us vastly improved.

Unfortunately, it wasn't nearly enough. We fought the androids together once, and Gohan lost an arm to save me To save me when I was the one who couldn't Trunks paused a moment, his teenage emotions bringing a wave of fresh pain to his mind. We both got back alive, if barely. Gohan gave up training himself, but continued to work with me. Trunks stumbled over the phrasing, not really wanting to go on for fear of losing control of his emotions or revealing too much, but continued anyway. I- Gohan- One day, while he was training me, the androids attacked a city adjacent to our sparring grounds. Gohan was fed up with hiding and decided to take them on alone, not wanting me to get in the way, or worse, be killed. Maybe Maybe if he hadn't but he knocked me out and left me on the hill overlooking the city, then fought the androids alone. They- he-, when I woke up, it was raining and the city was devastated. I searched for his ki everywhere, I looked for him under every piece of rubble, hoping, praying But when I finally found him Trunks stopped walking abruptly and closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as well to keep tears from flowing. I wished I hadn't.

The two men were empathetic toward Trunks, Corran more so. The oldest man tried to dip into Trunks's thoughts, delving into the wispy image made so easily viewable by the powerful emotions it evoked. Corran saw, felt, heard the moment, Trunks's defining moment, this moment in which the reality finally sank into Trunks's impressionable young mind, and the lavender-locked boy realized that his best and only friend was gone for good.

But what was this!? There was a flash of golden light the anger, the pain a vow?

Trunks continued, his breathing evening out as he slowly continued to walk. All the pain, the anger, the hate, all of my rage, my hope, and my love for my family, friends, and the people it then fell upon me to protect exploded within me at that moment. It became the power I wield, and forever will be. I vowed to never let any such terror be pressed upon another living being so long as I could prevent it. After another four years-which seemed like an eternity- and endless training, I finally defeated the androids, restoring peace to my world.

The other men were silent for a moment, but only for a moment, for Corran was left unsatisfied. So, how did you get here? Apparently, your planet doesn't have much contact with the Silverarms or other alien life forms. 

Trunks told half of the truth. Combat fatigue really got to me. I can't stop hearing the screams in my dreams of the innocent people I could have saved had I been just a little bit faster. So I left my home. It may sound stupid, but I did it to save other worlds.

You're a fool, Kahler. Corran told him.

I've been told that before. Trunks replied.

You'll never be able to cleanse the universe of corruption; one man can't do that alone! Hell, I'll be damned if you even got away from the Silverarms alive.

Trunks was silent for a moment, then spoke again, barely above a whisper. But if I had a way, would you come with me?

the Slycan less-than-gracefully reply.

Tussney hasn't told you my plan. I still have my ship with me, shrunk and in storage. That's why I need the parts, to repair it. When I'm done, I'm loading it up, shoving off, and blowing these ruthless, evil Silverarms into the next dimension, and God knows I can do it in one short, quick blast. Knowing that, are you in? Will you come with?

You're crazy!

Aren't we all? Trunks was dead serious. If it wasn't for those of us with a slightly different outlook than the rest, we'd all still be in a terrestrial Stone Age. Corran, we don't have to sit around and wait for the universe to implode in on itself for the corruption to be put to a stop. I can do something about it; we can do something about it. We can't do everything, but we still can do something. What do you say?

It was a tough decision for Corran. This guy was insane! Any previous escape attempt had failed, ending either in capture like in Tussney's lucky case, or if the escapee managed to get into space, death on their part. But this guy seemed so confident in his ability, confident that he could take out this ship and everyone on it in a single blast.

Sensing his indecision, Trunks disclosed more information to persuade Corran to say yes. Yes, my weapon system is still operating fine. It's just some engine and structural damage that needs to be repaired.

How severe is this damage? asked Corran.

Well, erm Trunks placed a hand behind his head. I kinda crashed it on that last planet Hey, but with your help, the proper parts, and my knowledge and skill, it should take less than a week.

What's a week? Tussney asked. Week? Month? Are you speaking Standard?

Trunks gave it some thought. Your hours seem to be about the same as mine How many hours are in a day here? he asked, simultaneously checking the logs on his watch.

Twenty-four, a strange number to have if you ask me. Corran replied.

Good. A week is about seven days and a month is between 28 and 31, usually 30.

Then it's not too bad. Corran continued consideration of Trunks's offer, often delving into his conscious mind for clues to the underlying source of this boy's confidence, but in vain. It could be a bluff. Riigo inducted the boy for his strength, but Riigo was little more than a mildly skilled bully, on the lower end of the officers as it was. So either Kahler was extremely arrogant and foolish, or quite powerful, had great self-control, was sure of his actions, and most of all intelligent. There was something familiar about him, in his build, the shape of his face, and his heat signature was as apparent as any Saiyan he had ever seen, declaring to anyone willing to listen, I am a warrior!

Kahler reminded Corran very much of Tussney. Was it possible that the lavender-haired youth was part Saiyan?

Corran was very highly educated, and included in his learning was knowledge of the characteristics of the only three species in the universe that can interbreed successfully. Because of his notably higher IQ when compared to Tussney, Corran arrived at several possible solutions much quicker and easier than the full-bred Saiyan.

Trunks definitely had to be part Farben, but then to give him the strength which that race sorely lacked, he also had to be at least part Saiyan. Still, it was hard to believe Farben blood was still running around. That race had been one of the first conquered during Frieza's reign. So, if Kahler was of that accursed Saiyan race But something in Kahler's conviction, his pride, even his posture gave Corran a feeling that he could trust this youth, a feeling that Kahler would never let him down without putting up a real fight, and Corran knew the boy could fight. The way he carried himself along suggested untold depths of hidden skill. He was always perfectly balanced, never faltering, but more frequently now off guard. 

Even with all the evidence pushing him toward a answer, Corran was reluctant to leave the relative security that the gang provided him with.

Ah, to hell with it. he finally decided out loud, then thought, Hey, if no one else can tell that this guy's part Saiyan, he can do my shopping for me.

So you're in? Tussney asked, hoping that his friend had decided so.

Sure I am, buddy. Now all Kahler here has to do is explain his plan a bit more. I heard we're closing in on a minor military freighter and all the gang members able to fight are going to be put into hijacking and looting it. One of those things would have enough spare parts on it for any ship to be repaired and rebuilt twice over. The only problem is obtaining and storing the parts. Corran gave his short analysis of the situation.

Trunks began, I have these little gadgets called capsules

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Silverarm raider ship at 3:00! a nondescript moderator of the military ship's monitors warned his captain.

Shit! Well, private? Give me status! Can we escape them? the captain demanded.

Fighting odds are 1:206 in their favor, sir! Escape is far worse, 1:2,301,659. I'm sorry, sir.

Well, then take up your weapons, men! We're going to fight!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Alright, does everyone have their capsules? Do you remember what you're looking for? Trunks asked his as they stood crowded in Trunks and Tussney's shared room

Varying forms of were the alien duo's unanimous replies.

Soon, the gang's ship seized and docked with the freighter. The airlocks were forced open and rivers of armed Silverarms streamed onto the ship and into a white haze of gunfire. What followed was pure chaos: weapons firing, random hand-to-hand combat, but to the Silverarms, it seemed all just one rowdy party.

There may have been no true fighters onboard the military ship, but the weapons it carried could do extensive damage upon striking flesh. Blocking shots with a ki shield each, Trunks and Tussney protected Corran, who had no knowledge of the use of ki. When they reached the opposition's cargo area, they split up and began stuffing much needed parts in capsules.

Hey! You're not allowed in here! a lieutenant yelled at them and began to fire at Corran. He had a very difficult time dodging the blasts, but Trunks seemed to suddenly appear behind the alien officer and he proceeded to knock him out before Corran received a serious blow.

He'll live. Trunks mumbled, commentating on the fallen alien before returning to his work. They had the last needed piece capsulated before more trigger-happy military personnel entered and began firing. Tussney blasted them into oblivion before they could hit anyone.

They won't live. Was the taller teen's continuation of Trunks's previous statement. Trunks frowned at the unnecessary loss of life, but there was nothing he could do now. We'd better report to the officers and Tussney snapped the unconscious man's neck, tell them this area is secure. Noticing Trunks's obvious objection to killing, he explained, If we left him alive, he'd die anyway. We blow ships up after we raid them, get rid of the evidence; and if he would wake up suddenly while we were loading our ship, we'd get in huge trouble.

Trunks didn't answer, but instead began to walk out of the room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They stored the capsules in Trunks's room, went over the plan for once they hit planetside, then continued on with their daily lives.

Things went downhill for the most part. The long days, hard work, and skimpy meals severely taxed Trunks's figure, morale, and will. He gave up being picky about the meals and loaded his plate with as much of the disgusting alien food he could get a hold of, but that did little more to sate his hunger than a pebble would do to stay the flow of Niagara Falls.

With his ki waning and his overall strength likewise, Trunks began to lose confidence in his ability. Fortunately, Corran noticed.

Hey, Kahler. You don't look so good. Is something wrong? the concerned lizard man asked at the start of another such nondescript ship day.

Trunks-whose hair seemed to soak up the tint that his skin lost-shook his head slightly from side to side and tried to lift one of the crates he had been assigned to. Surprisingly, he found that he couldn't.

Of course, he concluded mentally, I'm not using my ki. Well, here goes He tried again, but found his ki far too depleted to aide him.

Woah, Kahler! Sit down and take a breather. Corran advised the exhausted teen.

I'm fine. Trunks repeated, insisting airily, his pride preventing him from taking Corran's good advice. He tried again, this time leaning into it. He picked the several-ton crate up, moved it to where it had to go, and set it down, Corran following a few steps behind the entire way. Upon completion of the task, Trunks turned around and sighed away the effort. He told Corran, his breath windy and panting. I told you I'm just fi- at that moment, a shock thrust itself through Trunks's mind, breaking his hold onto consciousness. As his eyes glossed over and eyelids fluttered closed, he already could no longer hear Corran's cries, rushing to keep his limp body from roughly striking the dingy metallic floor. Trunks's world was overcast.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

To be continued...

**Dragon ball ending theme begins to play**

Tussney: Well, since Kahler promised it would be my turn, it's, uh my turn!

**A clip of medical personnel running down the corridor past Tussney**

Tussney: Woah, what could possibly be going on?

**A clip of Tussney asking that question, then one of Trunks laying helpless in a hospital bed in a dimly-lit room, skin whiter than ivory**

Tussney: That really doesn't look good I hope everything turns out alright! Tune in next time, same time, same place! DBZ: HYHB: Episode 13, Truth Revealed! It'll be wonder- wonder

Trunks: **Sighs** Wonderfully informative, Tussney.

Tussney: Wonderfully informative! Hey, I was getting around to it! If you can do better, why don't you do the wrap-up next time?

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STORY BY:  
Silent Willow

Trunks: Alright, not a problem, Tuss.

TYPING BY:  
Silent Willow

Tussney: **Slaps his forehead** Uhg!

HTML CODING BY:  
Silent Willow

BETA READING BY:  
SSJ_Zorella maybe someday if he gets around to it

HOSTING BY:  
Freeservers.com (fallen into disrepair)  
MediaMiner.org  
Fanfiction.net... I'm not posting this there again until I'm directly asked, though

ACTORS:  
Trunks Briefs: Trunks Briefs  
Tussney: 17-year-old Radditz  
Lasiehr: Morten  
Riigo: Fat Bastard and a lot of makeup  
Tobaga: ROSELYNE MARROT **YAY!!!**  
INTRODUCING Corran: Rya (Yes, the same Rya that appears in the Special Thanks section. Welcome aboard!)  
Various Aliens: Random people off the street

SPECIAL THANKS TO:  
The letter D (For Duo Maxwell, ex-muse)  
Zamba (I'll miss our RP sessions Thanks for finding that awesome quote for this episode!)  
Ember (For being the first person to review this story!)  
Rya (Former reluctant muse and fellow writer)  
Mountain Dew Anonymous (The anonymous, nonexistent group that helped me get over my addiction)  
Kool-Aid Jammers (I want one right now)  
Vanilla Coke (Mmmm)  
Coffee (It's my friend)  
Phoenix_Rising (For not getting mad at me for saying that coffee is my friend, and for being my drawing sensei ^_^)  
Chino-kun (Because of his spiffy Squall cosplay! Yay!)  
SSJ_Zorella (Even though he's been dormant for a while. Hey, Zorella! Do I have to get a new beta?)  
Storm_410 (For encouraging me to get back to work!)  
Momoko-chan (For our endless plot discussion nights on various stories, even when we were supposed to be focusing elsewhere ^_^;; And for suggesting a quote for the beginning of this episode!)  
MediaMiner.org (For trying to make things better on this site despite difficulty and limited budget)

And finally, readers like you! 


	12. Truth Revealed

_**Episode 12 - Truth Revealed**_

If you do not clearly see the words "to be continued" near the bottom of the page, then it hasn't loaded completely or properly.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. If I had enough money to be Akira Toriyama, I'd just buy the Internet. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written by me. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader.

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A/N: Sorry it's taken so long. I've been getting involved in a few really involved projects. Ahem, "Taking Flight", my GW fanfic, and "Tempest Winds", my webcomic. Go read them! I also completely lost the notebook that I had drafted the next few chapters into. Now I'm sick of looking for it, so I'm planning on just redrafting the chapters and getting on with the story. Updates might be slow because I'll be getting a job this summer and shipping off to college, plus I have a lot of projects/stories to update. Still, after re-reading what I've written so far, I can't believe that I ever wrote such short chapters. (I recently whipped out a 70-page chapter of Taking Flight that I'm planning on chopping in half before posting.) I added plenty to this one when I re-drafted, and I think it's safe to say that, even though I tried to keep it around the original length, it's much better this way. Originally it was set up so that Corran spouted off a bunch of random facts and Trunks said, essentially, "oh." That said, enjoy!

P.S.: I need a new beta reader! I'm looking for someone with passable grammer and spelling skills (not just spell check), and preferably with the MSN and/or AIM instant messanger program. Contact me at my e-mail address to apply.

**Broken bodies, broken dreams.  
All is lost, or so it seems...**

_"'He say... Oogaly? What means that? Oogaly?' 'It means your face would frighten small children. Now be quiet.'" - Babadi and Buu, __DragonBall Z_

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Tussney was scrubbing the chrome walls a few hallways down from the cargo bay when several random aliens came rushing past. One with twelve tentacles for legs tripped on his bucket and swore in his native tongue as the cleaning solution bubbled and hissed on his membranous feet. "Hey, what's going on?" Tussney yelled after the mismatched group, which he knew to be made up of weaklings far below his power level.

A small, squat alien with a head and feet that seemed too large for the rest of him waddled past. He grunted and chuckled with something akin to laughter. As if delivering the punch line to a hilarious joke he chortled, "Newbie fainted," and waddled on.

"What!?" Tussney yelled, then took off running before the short alien could repeat himself. He slid around the corner and waved his arms to keep his balance, then jogged into the cargo bay and squeezed through the small crowd that had gathered to gawk and jeer at the fallen violet-haired teen.

"Tussney," came a voice from further into the crowd. Corran's scaly arm appeared that same moment and dragged the hulking Saiyan through the last few feet of the crowd and to where the man could clearly see what was going on.

Tussney whistled as his eyes befell Trunks's prone form. "Hey, Corran, is his skin supposed to be that white? Kahler never told me nothin' about his species."

The scaly Slycan shook his head. "I don't know; he never told me anything either." Still, Corran was pretty sure that the ghostly pallor creeping onto Trunks's face wasn't a good sign.

Tussney frowned as a pair of aliens that he recognized from the medical bay pushed their way through the crowd. He distinctly remembered talking to the boy about his recent changes in habit on a few occasions, but Kahler hadn't exactly been very cooperative, or even very responsive. He would eat his foot at the end of the ship day just to get it out of sight, it seemed, then stumble back to their room like a zombie and usually be asleep before Tussney even got back. In the mornings, Tussney found it increasingly harder to coax him out of bed. He had recently developed a nasty silent glare as well that fewer and fewer aliens were spared from as they crossed the cranky teen's path throughout the day. While Tussney was glad that it seemed to keep a lot of small aliens out of their way, Kahler hadn't exactly proved to be pleasant company of late.

And then there was his creepy habit of sometimes glaring at those funky capsule thingies too, as if they held all the answers in the galaxy.

As Trunks's limp form was rolled off to the medical bay, Tussney whispered to Corran, "I have a plan."

Corran looked uneasy; Tussney's plans were almost never a healthy thing to get involved in. He was spared from having to answer when Riigo spotted Tussney at that moment and yelled, "Oy, monkey! Get your flea-bitten tail outta my cargo bay!"

"Meet me outside in a couple of minutes." Tussney told his friend as he slunk away and out of Riigo's sight.

Several minutes later, Corran was engaged in sneaking stealthily down a cream walled hallway, his scales lightened to match the almost sickly yellow hue. He had in his claws a tiny green bean, a souvenir from his brief "discussion" with Tussney.

"Kahler told me about these miracle beans from his planet on his first day here, and I caught him debating with himself whether or not to take one a couple of days ago." Tussney had told the Slycan. "I'm willing to bet that the quack doctors that Lasiehr uses to treat the crew won't know jack shit about Kahler's race, much less be able to do anything for him. Shit, I don't even have more of a clue than this. Get to where they're keeping him, Cor', and see if you can figure him out. If not, use this doo-hickey."

"_He owes me for this._"Corran thought, though he wasn't sure if he meant Tussney or Kahler by that. He had to admit, this latest turn of events didn't do much to increase his confidence in the boy.

Corran pressed himself flat to the ceiling as two loud aliens (a tall, thin, wiry, bird-like blue one and a short, fat, lumpy red one) exited a room to the left and entered a room two doors down and to the right carrying several sheets of paper each. From the small amount of their conversation that Corran overheard, they were not only surprised that the newbie which Riigo had praised so highly would be prone to fainting spells, but they also didn't have any idea what was wrong with the boy, much less how to treat him. The red one seemed to dislike the situation mostly because it meant a lot of paperwork right now so they could send off their test results to some medical center to be analyzed.

Corran got an eyeful of Kahler in the room that the aliens had just left even as he got an earful of the aliens' whiny, surprisingly high-pitched chatter. He scampered into the room via the ceiling and whipped his tail in after him just as the door swung shut into its oval frame. The young Slycan immediately flipped onto the floor, landed with several soft clicks as his claws struck the tile, and let his color revert to its natural deep forest green.

The first thing he did was walk quickly over and take a look at the various electronic displays that were steadily spitting out paper records of their readings. Kahler's temperature was about a steady 98.6- no, 98.2 well, it was fluctuating between 98 and 99. His pulse was steady and strong in any case, And the oxygen level in his blood was about as high as his own (but not nearly as high as Tussney's). His brain waves were pretty erratic and about as fast as most species were when conscious, but he was obviously unconscious. There were two IVs in his arms, one in each. One was apparently keeping him hydrated and the other was linked to a machine that monitored his blood. An electronic display on that machine had some funky symbols on it, most of which Corran didn't know how to read. It was probably in one of the doctors' native language. Corran picked apart some blocks and slashes that he recognized as Tennerran and discovered that the rapidly changing digits to the side of it and next to an inverted, rapidly falling graph of a parabola corresponded to the boy's blood sugar level. At the start of the graph it looked pretty stable and only slightly above the level that was pretty commonly normal among most races, but now it had dipped below that and was gaining speed in its decent.

"_Ssyriniss!_" the Slycan hissed a random curse that he had picked up from the pirates and turned quickly toward Kahler. Most of the other numbers on the monitors were falling as well, though much slower. "_What the hell!?_"Corran vaguely thought as he crossed the space between us in a single giant step, opened Kahler's mouth, shoved the Senzu bean inside, and forced the boy to chew. He swallowed reflexively, and for a few long moments nothing happened.

Then, color rushed back into Kahler's face and all the numbers on every chart spiked to impossible levels, but Corran wasn't watching them. He was watching with relief as Kahler's eyes fluttered open groggily and he yawned, exposing slightly pointed incisors. "Mornin', Tu- You're not Tussney." Kahler looked quite confused.

"Well, thank you for that enlightening report from the Obvious Committee, Kahler." Corran rolled his eyes savagely, clearly annoyed now that he was pretty sure that the crisis was over.

"And this isn't my room." Trunks observed as he quickly scanned his surroundings. He moved one hand to scratch an itch on his other arm. As his fingers brushed the offending OV needle, Corran could swear he heard the air crackle as Kahler stiffened. The hair on the back of the violet-haired boy's neck rose, he quickly removed all of the needles he could find (including one near his rear that Corran hadn't previously known about), and he shuddered.

"Done now?" Corran asked with amusement.

"Yeah." Trunks admitted slowly, clearly embarrassed. Corran nodded, and as he did, the events leading up to this moment rushed back to Trunks's conscious mind in one cold, hard, mental slap in the face. It bothered him deeply how he was unable to determine how many repetitive, boring days he had spent starving aboard this ship. Had it been weeks? Months? How long had he been slowly wasting away?

"Hey, Kahler, wake up there." Corran called him back to reality. He had apparently been trying to talk to Trunks, and was now waving a printout of the young demi-Saiyan's biological functions. The machines that supplied it had been conveniently switched off, and Corran was giving Kahler an awfully meaningful look. Trunks wished that his friend would leave just so the feeling of apprehension that had settled in the pit of his stomach about what the Slycan's next words would be, would go away. "As I was saying, this is not normal. You have some explaining to do, and you're not backing out of it."

Trunks caught himself wondering what the Slycan planned to do in order to stop him, but a wave of guilt overcame him as he remembered that if it hadn't been for Corran bringing him a Senzu "Wait a minute, Corran, you gave me a Senzu?"

"So that's what you call those weird green things. Yeah, Tussney told me to- and don't change the subject."

Trunks nodded and flexed his fingers; renewed strength flowed through them. He could feel the restorative power of the Senzu rushing through his blood, and for once in a very long time, hunger wasn't clawing at his insides. He sighed slightly as he realized that this had been as good of a time as any to use a Senzu. "Thanks though, Corran."

"Don't thank me yet." Corran's gaze was still narrow. "You are going to tell me what's going on, and you're going to start by explaining this." He slapped the paper onto Trunks's knees, revealing the huge spike in body temperature, oxygen level, brain waves, blood sugar level, and so on when he moved his clawed hand away. One spike in particular interested Corran the most. As he had been waking up, for just a moment Kahler's power level had been rising at an impossible rate before being quickly suppressed to 5, rising again, then being allowed to hover at more or less 175. Corran didn't care so much about the miracle bean so much as he was dead set in his conviction that no one's power level fluctuated that much, especially while waking up.

Trunks laughed nervously and stumbled over a possible answer. "Well, I, uh um"

Corran cut off Kahler's shameless stuttering and decided to put words into his mouth. He knew that he probably didn't have much time left here anyway, and he might never catch the boy in a situation like this again. "I've been watching you, Kahler. Your health was failing you, and it's because of the meals. I've seen the way you eat, and how you've become more careful of how you throw your strength around in the cargo bay. And I'm not stupid like half of the rest of the trash on this shit ship. Lasiehr almost broke you; I've seen enough of that to know. You don't do yourself any favors by hanging close to Tussney either. Not that I have anything against the guy, but your habits and looks are too similar. Kid, I could have sworn the first time I saw you that you were Saiyan just by how you acted, how you carried yourself, but I know that your coloring is off for one, two I've never seen a Saiyan as short as you ("_Thank you, Dad._"), and three, you don't have a tail."

Trunks nodded perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "Yeah, there you have it. You said it yourself, I am definitely in no way related to the Saiyans-"

"But all of that doesn't mean a damn thing." Corran cut him off. Trunks just about planted his face in the floor. "There aren't many races that can interbreed with Saiyans successfully-the republic of Girtopia maintains a pretty strict pedigree of all the Saiyan blood that's left in the galaxy-but I know of a few."

"_Oh great._"Trunks mentally groaned.

"Most of them have strange skin colors or bony plates in places that you obviously don't, and one has these strange pointed ears and the emotional depth of a rock, but I'm willing to bet that barring those, you're a Farben."

"A what?" Trunks couldn't help but ask.

Corran smirked and answered, "It's a race of these really smart beings that the Cold Empire nearly wiped out. They're ace with technological crap, and even though they're physically not the toughest things around, they can get out of some tough scrapes by using their minds to fortify their bodies. They have really vivid hair colors-purple, blue, and white are common probably from genetic engineering or something-and I saw a lot of them living on the last Saiyan space colony that we raided. Resourceful little guys, I'll give them that."

Trunks grinned to himself. "_How convenient._"

"There was a recent report in the Galactic Update about how their scientists have been doing tests on some stupid creatures from this backwater planet that sounds like a burp noise, and they found their DNA to be compatible with Saiyans too. The E-arthans or whatever they're called are built a lot tougher than the Farbens, though."

"_Crap._"

"Hey, are you just going to sit there and glare at me or what?"

"Sorry." He apologized. Trunks hadn't realized that he had been glaring.

After a short silence, Corran prompted him, "And I think I'll leave you to your own conclusions." Trunks shifted and swung his legs over the side of the bed in preparation to get up.

"And I think you're going to do some explaining." Corran stood adamantly in his way.

Trunks briefly contemplated shoving Corran aside, but decided wisely against it and stayed sitting on the firm bed as the dark-scaled Slycan towered over him. Trunks's face took on a dark look and he lowered his gaze. "And I don't really want to talk about it. I'm not my favorite subject." He said lowly.

"Kahler, come on," Corran implored him, bending down to his eye level and giving him back his personal space. "I would like to think that I'm enough of a trusted friend of yours that you could at least tell me what you are."

"You know _who_ I am." Trunks insisted. "That should be enough."

"No," Corran asserted, "as long as you need to rely on someone else for your health if nothing else, who you are isn't enough. And I'm not even all that sure of _who_ you are these days either. You've changed, Kahler, and _I_ don't think I trust who you're becoming."

Trunks opened his mouth slowly, then closed it again. He was speechless; Corran was right. He had changed under the stress of his environment, and not for the better. "I'm sorry, Corran." He said at length, and he truly meant it.

Corran nodded, accepting his apology. "I guess I'm sorry too, yanno, for not doing anything sooner and all. So are you going to tell me?"

"Yes." Trunks replied. His heart seemed to lift into his throat along with that word and he felt like adding "everything", but held back. He couldn't and wouldn't tell Corran everything, not yet. "As you have probably guessed, I am half Saiyan."

Corran's face split into a toothy smile and a triumphant look. "I knew it!"

"But as to my other half, in order to keep my home world safe, I will not be able to tell you. I can assure you, however, that I have never heard of, and am most certainly not a Farben." Trunks told him seriously.

"Shit, man, what kind of backwater planet do you come from anyway?" Corran swore.

Trunks just laughed nervously. A door opened out in the hall, mercifully scattering any thoughts that Corran might have used to put 2 and 2 together, and a pair of footsteps started to approach. "Hide!" Trunks hissed at Corran and the Slycan dragged the paper records under the bed with him just as the door unlatched and _K-fwoomed_ into the wall.

"Hmm? You're awake." The tall blue alien noted as he ducked into the room. His long muzzle was tipped in a short, eagle-like beak and his long fingers and appendages looked awkwardly proportioned to the rest of his 12-foot frame. The small red alien peeked in below him.

"Yeah, I woke up when you closed the door earlier, figured you'd be back" Trunks lied as he pieced bits of what he was pretty sure to have happened before he woke up together. He was surprised how easily lying was coming to him now, and a little disquieted at the same time. "I'm feeling fine now, thanks, just overexerted myself a bit. I knew I shouldn't have tried to reset block B-63 after how funny breakfast smelled. Oh, I hope you don't mind that I turned off your equipment. It was bothering me."

The doctors blinked simultaneously. "Well, er, yer gonna be comin' wit us fer a few tests anywho." The red alien said after a bit.

Trunks stiffened. "Really, I'm feeling much better now"

"But we still must send a report to Lasiehr detailing your inherited race. He has expressed his wish to know in quite a clear manner." The blue alien looked nervous as he spoke.

Trunks was nervous too. Corran poked him with his tail from an angle that the doctors couldn't see after he felt the silence had almost stretched too long. "A Farben." Trunks lied, remembering his earlier conversation.

"What?" The doctors asked in unison, obviously not having expected such a plain answer.

"I'm a Farben, see the hair? My mind fortifies my body." Well, at least that was pretty much true, and the lie might stretch to explain how he could lift the 5 ton crates. "Really, Riigo will be angry if I stay away too long, and I'm feeling just fine."

The two doctors looked at each other for a moment. Neither of them wanted to disappoint Lasiehr, but an angry Riigo usually meant a lot of unnecessary injuries and that uneconomic turn usually disappointed Lasiehr anyway. The newbie looked a lot like a Farben anyway and his vitals had been pretty close to those statistics.

The red alien nodded. He didn't want to have to bother with all the paperwork that it would take to test him, especially when the newbie had already offered the information so freely. "Fine, git yerself outta here 'n back ta Riigo then." He and the tall blue alien ducked back out of the room as Kahler walked past, then went back to their offices, apparently pleased that they would have much less paperwork to do.

Before leaving to follow Kahler, Corran sent the records that he stole down the incinerator chute. As he was climbing his way out of the room on the ceiling, he spotted Spug creeping his way along the floor in the hall, twitching and looking nervously around. Corran had the strongest urge to hiss at him and punt him with his tail, but resisted in favor of not drawing attention to himself, and therefore not provoking Lasiehr's wrath.

"_What the hell was he doing down here?_"Corran thought more as an outlet for his desire to curse at something than as an objective question to be answered. Still as Corran caught up to Kahler when he turned the next corner, he couldn't help but wonder and think twice about his question.

To be continued...

Dragon ball ending theme begins to play

Trunks: Uh oh, I've got a bad feeling about this.

Tussney: So do I, but I think it's just breakfast Urg

Trunks: Rolls his eyes Anyway, one of the following things won't appear in the next episode: me in luminous bikini shorts- Hey, who wrote this!?

A clip of Trunks wearing shiny bikini shorts outside his pants and complaining about it

Corran: Just read the script, Monkey-boy.

Tussney: Hey, I didn't do anything!

Trunks: Slaps his forehead A drunken cat boy-

Corran: Now I don't even want to see that. Those Felions are disgusting when they're drunk, all fur and alcohol Give me nice clean scales any day.

Trunks: Rolls his eyes Lasiehr in a dress-

A clip of Lasiehr in a dress, humming "I Feel Pretty"

Tussney: Wolf whistles

Trunks: Tussney wearing underwear on his head, Corran eating a bug, or a coconut bra. Tune in next time, same time, same place! DBZ: HYHB: Episode 13, Escape into Captivity! It's sure to be shockingly hilarious!

Tussney: What's this about me wearing underwear on my head? I don't wear underwear on my head!

-==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==- -==-

STORY BY:  
Silent Willow

TYPING BY:  
Silent Willow

HTML CODING BY:  
Silent Willow

BETA READING BY:  
SSJZorella (Retired?)  
(I need a new beta reader!)

HOSTING BY:  
Freeservers.com (fallen into disrepair)  
MediaMiner.org  
Fanfiction.net  
And maybe in the future Deviantart.com

ACTORS:  
Trunks Briefs: Trunks Briefs  
Tussney: 17-year-old Radditz  
Lasiehr: Morten  
Riigo: Fat Bastard and a lot of makeup  
Tobaga: ROSELYNE MARROT YAY!!!  
Corran: Rya  
Various Aliens: Random people off the street

SPECIAL THANKS TO:  
The letter F (For not appearing on my report card!)  
Zamba (W00t! We're RPing again! :D )  
Ember (For being the first person to review this story!)  
Rya (Former reluctant muse and fellow writer)  
Pixi Stix (I had 8 of them today. The last time I had that many in one sitting, I nearly burned the house down.)   
Vanilla Coke (Mmmm)  
Coffee (It's my friend)  
PhoenixRising (For being my drawing sensei and for helping me with the coloring of the Tempest Winds pages!)  
Chino-kun (Still because of his spiffy Squall cosplay! Whee!)  
SSJZorella (Even though he's not really beta-ing anymore. I need a new beta!)   
Momoko-chan (Because you're still Plot Slave Extraordinaire! You rock! :D )  
PEFGH (Even though I haven't heard from you in a while)  
Embyr-75 (For keeping on my butt to get this chapter out. Arigato! Without you, it wouldn't be here. ;; )  
MediaMiner.org (Even though you suck because you don't allow much art posting anymore, I still am in awe of your awesome Fanfic search capabilities and NC-17 friendliness. Not that I read NC-17 fanfiction, but I do appreciate the freedom that you allow writers of NC-17 fiction. Nod nods)

And finally, readers like you!


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